Strike Back
by LorettyLauren93
Summary: "I could always shoot you. " The demon smirked, "You could always miss." He let out a taunting laugh, "And you've only got one try, dontcha? Did you really think you could trap me?" Dean/OC-Abigail. Sequel to Bad Company. Rated M. See first chapter for more info. Any comments/reviews appreciated.
1. Author's Notes

**Author's Note—Strike Back**

* * *

Welcome to the sequel of my previous story, Bad Company! If you are new to the series then I suggest that you need to backtrack it to Bad Company and read it, otherwise you'll be swan diving into a story already in progress and full of spoilers! It's a real good read, and it'll take a few days—depending on your reading speed! Plus, it'll clue you in on who Abigail is and how she had come to be a part of the Winchester and Sons Company, so that's always a good thing.

Essentially, this is how I perceive Supernatural. In general, I follow the series and I write Abigail in as we go. I don't change the plots too much, just enough to seem realistic and believable for Abigail's storyline that I am creating. In all, I hope that everyone enjoys her as much as I enjoy writing her!

* * *

This is the story of Abigail Colt. She comes from an extensive lineage of demon hunters, and a descendant of Samuel Colt. Abigail was born with supernatural perception along with the ability to sense them proving her parents an important asset to their hunts. At the age of fourteen, her family was brutally murdered after a demon couldn't possess her, leaving her father mortally wounded in which, he tells her to call their closest friend; John Winchester. As Abigail's father's last wish, John takes her in.

As any good-natured romance story (I'm a big sucker for them), Abigail and Dean end up developing feelings for each other after a long bout of having a love/hate, brother/sister relationship where they were together one week and the next, they were at each other's throats. After solidifying this relationship, they eventually gain John's blessing.

After John's disappearance in Season 1, the crew gets back together after Abigail and Dean fetch Sam from college and journey across the country to find their father. They've endured several mishaps and have fallen into several crevasses along the way. Sam faced the loss of his girlfriend, Jess, in a tragic fire—much like the one that had killed his and Dean's mother many years ago. Dean and Abigail's relationship have been tried due to a surprise pregnancy, the search for John, and the revelation of what John will think of their unborn child.

* * *

Strike Back takes place in Season 2 of Supernatural. Sam, Dean, John, and Abigail are being air lifted to the nearest hospital being struck by a possessed truck driver in the Impala. They're all injured—some more than others. Each one of them don't know how bad the other got hurt, or if they even made it out alive. Their whole world is turned upside down.

I am a huge review lover. I can't get enough of them—especially if they're nice! I love knowing how I'm doing with this story! I'm always open for new ideas pertaining to the storyline, or if they want to see something put in there, I'm always up for a challenge!

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_**Disclaimer**_: I do not own Supernatural or any of the storyline. Any changes to the storyline and addition of characters (Kara, Charlie, Gavin, Abigail, etc.), are mine. Ideas that go towards the changes of the storyline will go to the respected person that helps (_Ladysunshine6_).

_**Note**_: This story (and any future ones) will be rated M for language and smut, as well as some- and I am stressing _some_\- situations that will involve attempted suicide and drug use. (There may or may not have them. It's just a precaution.) So, please, as an attempt at forewarning, don't read it if you aren't into it.

I also have a Tumblr if anyone is interested. Check it out! **Tumblr: coltabigail dot tumblr dot com**

Thanks! (:


	2. In My Time of Dying (Part One)

_I can't breathe, need you here with me_  
_Close my eyes I can feel you close_  
_(Why did you have to go?)_

_I'd give up my eyes to see you one last time_  
_And I'd give all my fingertips to touch you_  
_And I could paint you picture perfect even if I were blinded_  
_But you have to die for me to see how to live_

* * *

**_Abigail's Point of View_**

I woke up in a daze. I wasn't hurting, nor was I sore in any shape or form. It was damn near perfect to be honest. I hadn't felt this good in so long, it was almost a shame that I couldn't enjoy it with Sam or Dean. Except…where were they?

"_Abigail_!" I heard Sam call out from somewhere, "Abigail, stay awake!"

"Sir, please calm down!"

"No! Abigail!" Sam called out.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head, feeling a warm sensation overcome my senses until a voice pulled me back in, "Significant passenger side intrusion. Unresponsive and going into preterm labor. BP is 180 over 60, heart rate 95, 95. The fetus' heart rate is unknown, but noted to be in severe distress."

"Tell me if they're okay!" Sam called out, frantic as the sound of a helicopter whirring and the clamoring of a frenzy of people running about. I was jolted with a burst of cool air, the brightness of a light was dimmed greatly. I stared up lazily, watching a series of lights pass me by in a slow, even rhythm. I closed my eyes, growing drowsy; the last thing I heard was someone shouting, "We're losing her!"

* * *

**_Dean's Point of View_**

_Jesus, what the hell happened? _That was the first thought that had crossed my mind. I scrunched my face in pain, allowing me to realize what had happened. The Colt…the demon that was possessing Dad…what the bastard had done to Abigail and I. Then after that, it was foggy. I couldn't remember much. I know I heard CCR playing on the radio in the Impala, Dad chewing Sam's ass for not killing him.

I had to check on them to see if they were alright. I tried to move my arms and legs, and felt nothing but restraint. I frowned, scrunching my face again as another surge of pain forced my eyes to open. I was at the hospital. Lights blurred past me and I lifted my head.

"We need an OR, stat!" A voice called out, feeling a pair of hands place gentle pressure on my shoulder.

"Sir, please remain calm, you've lost a lot of blood." A male's voice instructed me, and I looked up at him, confused.

I grimaced in pain, "I'm fine, thanks. Where's my family? My girlfriend's pregnant, I need to know about her!"

"Sir, you need to lay down." Another voice said, I looked over to see a relatively good-looking blonde say to me.

"Abigail!" I called out hoarsely. I laid my head back with a grunt of pain, "Sammy! Dad!"

"We're gonna have to sedate him!" The first guy called out.

I glared at him, "Like hell!" I bit out, struggling against whatever had me held down, "Where's my family?!" I looked around me wildly, searching for any sign of Abigail and my son, or Sam, or Dad. Fear crawled up my spine until I had gone near frantic. I passed by a bloodied girl on a gurney. She was so bloody that recognition was almost impossible, and she appeared to be pregnant; doctors and nurses had surrounded her like buzzards on a carcass. I swallowed, eyes growing wide with fear and denial. That couldn't be Abigail.

"Abigail!" I called out, looking around for someone of familiarity, then saw two guys in white approaching me; one of them holding a syringe. I glared at them, struggling against my bonds, "Oh no you don't!" I hissed when the needle broke the skin. It wasn't a minute after that, I was out.

* * *

**_Abigail's Point of View_**

**_Hospital—Day_**

In a room, I sat up working my jaw oddly and rolled out of bed. I jumped slightly at the feeling of a rather refreshing breeze, noticing that what I was wearing, was a hospital gown. Instantly, I grabbed the back of it so that my bare ass wouldn't hang out and scar poor Sam, if he were to show up unannounced. I smirked at myself, he was pretty good at that kind of thing.

Where they were, was a good question. I frowned, _'Did they get hurt bad?'_

I didn't hesitate about the fact that my bare ass was hanging out, I needed answers. "Dean?" I called out, half expecting him to come out of nowhere to scoop me up in his arms, "Sammy?!" I called out, growing panicked when Dean didn't answer. "Dad? Anybody?" I called out, searching the hallway for signs of my family. It was unnervingly calm, not a person in the hallway until I descended a set of stairs to the front of the hospital and found a nurse's station. I smiled at her, relieved.

"Excuse me, ma'am. _Hi_." I said, running a hand through very tangled hair battling mixed emotion at the moment, "I, uh, I think I was in a car accident, my dad and my brothers, I just need to find them." The nurse didn't blink my way, nor did she respond causing me to frown. "Hello?" I asked, quite taken aback that she had responded to me. Taking my left hand, I snapped it in front of her face.

Nothing.

I felt a surge of panic rise into my throat and sprinted through the hospital, trying to grab everyone I came to's attention; briefly stopping at a hallway mirror to see a gash on my forehead that descended from my hairline.

"_Help!_" I spun around to hear Dean's voice ring out down a hallway, "_Hey! Anyone hear me_?" My chest heaved with quick breaths, waiting for something else to pull me towards the voice. "_Son of a bitch_!"

"Dean?" I breathed out, unsure I was hearing things. Around the third, frantic, '_Hey!_' I was sure I wasn't hearing things. "_Dean!_" I practically screamed out, running to the direction where I heard his voice. It wasn't far, because by the time I had found him, the both of us collided into each other with pained grunts. We jumped back, surprised that we had come into solid contact with something other than the wall or tables.

Like two deer caught in headlights, we stared at each other for a long second. "Hey, you." I breathed out, examining Dean. He had a gash similar to mine descending his forehead, a few scratches, and a busted lip. Those gorgeous eyes of his were wide in disbelief before stepping forward and wrapped his arms around me tightly. One of Dean's hands clutched the back of my head, entwining his fingers in my hair while the other had wound itself on my hip, and we stayed in each other's arms for a while.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked, stepping back to take a look at me. His expression was pained, self-loathing.

I tucked a stray hair behind my ear as I nodded, "Scared shitless, but I'm fine." Dean furrowed his brows in a disbelieving manner, "What about you?" I asked, touching his face gingerly.

"Same," Dean looked around us, "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know." I admitted, "Last thing I remember is the demon…and the pain, and…and that was the last thing I remember."

"We'll figure this out, Abs." he stated, "Have you heard anything from Sammy or Dad?"

I shook my head, "No. I don't know a thing, Dean. Tried talkin' to the receptionist downstairs and it's like I'm invisible."

"Same thing with me. One minute I'm trying to find you guys and the next…doctors, nurses—" Dean shook his head, "Won't bat an eye to even look at me…all that matters is you and the baby are fine. We need to find out about Sam and Dad." I nodded in agreement.

"This is like some freaky dream, like, _Donnie Darko_ or somethin'." I muttered, running my hand gingerly through my hair. Dean looked over at me with weirded-out expression. I smiled sheepishly, "Minus the freaky rabbit."

"Whatever is going on, we need to find Dad. He'll know what to do." He said with a firm nod, "Maybe this has got something to do with the demon." We hadn't walked more than a couple of feet when he grimaced in pain, gripping his chest like something painful was happening to him. I froze feeling shocked; unsure of what was going on with him.

"Dean?" I asked, witnessing something like a light flickering, Dean's image flickered while red began to spread out along his white shirt, soaking the front in the matter of seconds. He looked down at himself, flabbergasted, before he looked at me in the eyes and crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll. I gasped, rushing forward to collect him in my arms, "Dean! Hey, stay with me, a'ight?" His eyes rolled in the back of his head, causing me look around wildly, "Hey!" I yelled out, "I need some help!"

I looked down at him, legit scared out of my mind, "Dean, don't you leave me." I said, seeing his flutter, and I clenched my jaw, "Don't you leave me." I murmured, running my fingertips down the side of his battered face. Bowing my head against his, I silently prayed for some kind of help. I prayed so hard, I was half-expecting something to happen, but to see a dim light suddenly appear from under my hand and then grow brighter after each passing second, I knew this had to be some fucked up dream. It had gotten so bright, I blacked out.

* * *

I sat up, breathing hard and fast from everything. It had happened so fast. I had no idea what happened, or where Dean was for the matter. I looked around, realizing that I was lying on the cold, hospital ground. I wasted no time getting to my feet, because I knew I had to get answers somehow, and for me to do that, I needed to get back to my room. This was just too freaky for my taste.

Taking off down the hallway, rounding several corners and wound up at the receptionist's desk once again, flailing my hands unceremoniously at the oblivious woman. After a few crude gestures and a few choice words per say, I ran up a flight of stairs, finally returning to my room. Stepping through the doorway, I froze. My eyes widened in horror upon seeing my body on the bed, intubated and there was _no _signs of a swollen stomach. I blinked back tears, looking down at myself.

_There was no swollen stomach on me. _

I looked up, fully taking in the condition of my body, I saw that I had been hurt badly. From what I could see, my whole left side was a massive, black bruise and swollen. My face was black and blue, my left eye was swollen shut. It was covered in cuts and the same long, gnarly gash descended from my hairline. "Oh god." I whimpered out, covering my mouth with a shaking hand, "Oh, god…"

_This couldn't be happening._ I was damn near unrecognizable!

I heard a set of hurried footsteps and turned seeing Sam enter the room, only to stop at the door and stare at my body, breathing heavily. "Sammy!" I said, frantic over the absence of my swollen stomach, "You gotta tell me what happened to Cody—what happened to Dean!" I scrubbed my face, "Bub, you have to tell me if they're okay, if Dad's okay!"

His brows were pulled into a look of despair, "Oh, no." He breathed out, scrunching his face as if he were warring with himself on emotions. He glanced over his shoulder, almost afraid. Of what?

"_Sam_! Where is she?!" I heard Dean's weary voice call out. I sagged my head backwards, closing my eyes in relief.

_He was alright._ I thought, hearing his heavy footsteps close behind. _How long was I out?_ I managed to ask myself when his footsteps faltered behind his brother. I gaped at him, shocked. Dean looked awful. He was pale, like he had lost a lot of blood. His face had been sporting cuts and scrapes, along with a few stitches on his forehead. If there could've been a time that I not only felt like my heart had been ripped from my chest, but stomped on—this was definitely one of those times.

The look on Dean's battered face was of utter denial and pain. He looked to Sam, shaking his head. "That-that's not…" His brows furrowed in a disbelieving manner, "That's not Abs. You've got the wrong room, man."

Sam swallowed, eyes gleaming with tears, "Dean," He said lightly, "That _is_ her."

He shook his head again at him, determined to not believe Sam. "Look at her, Sam! She's not pregnant!"

I waved my hands in front of their faces, scared. "Guys, tell me you can hear me." I watched Dean's face crumple in a mix of emotions as he and Sam slowly entered my room, approaching my comatose body. Sam shook his head, his shaggy hair covering his eyes. "Dean." I called out, "I was just talkin' to you! Tell me you can see me!" No response from him. I closed my eyes for a moment, battling my own pent-up emotions.

"Do you think she's gonna to be okay?" I heard Sam ask Dean. I opened my eyes shortly after, looking over to him.

Dean hesitated, eyes never leaving my swollen face, and nodded, "Yeah. Yeah, she's okay." He replied, sure that I was fine. However, his jaw clenched as he repeated, _"She's gonna be okay",_ as if he needed to tell that to himself in reassurance.

I furrowed my brows, glancing to my body then to Dean, "How's dad? Is he okay?" I asked him, "What happened to Cody?" I reached out to grab his arm, only to go through him. That only pissed me off. With narrowed eyes, I looked to either boy, "What happened to Cody?!" I said with a firm tone.

I whirled around to Sam, crossing over to him, "Come on, you're my Psychic Twin." I pleaded waving my hand in front of his grimacing face, "Give me some ghost whisperin' or somethin', damn you!"

Someone walked in, causing the three of us to whirl around. It was the doctor, "Your father's awake. You two can go see him in you'd like."

I let my head fall back, "Thank God. One of a million questions have been answered." I looked to the doctor, "Where's my baby? What's happened to him? Is he okay?"

Dean nodded, thoughts elsewhere, "Doc, what about my girlfriend?"

"Well, she sustained serious injuries: blood loss, contusions to her liver and kidney, and a punctured lung. But it's the head trauma I'm worried about. There's early signs of cerebral edema." I looked at the doctor, shocked as he looked to my body. This was surreal.

Sam didn't take his eyes off me, well, my body as well. "Well, what can we do?"

He sighed, "Well, we won't know her full condition until she wakes up." He hesitated before adding: "_If_ she wakes up."

Dean and Sam looked to him, shocked, "_If_?"

"_Oh_, screw you, Doc!" I hissed out, "I'm waking up!" I looked over to the two distraught men in the room, hoping they heard me.

"I have to be honest," The doctor began to explain, "Most people with this degree of injury wouldn't have survived this long. She's fighting very hard." Dean's head bowed, a small knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "But you two need to have realistic expectations." He lifted his head, eyes widening like he had been slapped.

I shook my head. I was beyond frustrated, past the point of being frantic, and bordering the fence to Looney-ville. My hands ran through my hair, "Just tell me about my baby." I pleaded.

Dean motioned towards the absence of my baby bump, "And our kid, _explain_ that."

The doctor nodded, leafing through a couple of papers, "We had to do an emergency cesarean in hopes to save the baby. She's in the NICU as we speak…" He looked down at his charts, "Sir, mind you, she was born thirteen weeks early and suffered great trauma from the accident. The way things are looking." The doctor inhaled, thinking, "An infant born at twenty-seven weeks has a ninety percent chance of survival…but it depends on the gestational period, the maturity of the internal organs, and outside elements—"

"The way things are looking, however…with the trauma caused from the passenger side collision, it's just a matter of time." He concluded in a somber tone. It didn't sit well with me. Judging the shattered looks from Sam and Dean, it wasn't sitting well with them either. I covered my mouth with my hands, tears falling.

Dean's chest heaved deeply, spotting a chair near my bed and sat, threading his hands through his hair. What Sam didn't notice, but I did, was that his hands were trembling. Dean looked up at him, torn.

"_She?"_ he asked him softly.

The doctor looked at them surprised, "Yes. Didn't they tell you the sex at her fifteen week check-up?" Dean and Sam exchanged a look.

"We-we wanted it to be a surprise." Dean admitted, looking over to me.

"And we started thinking it was a boy." Sam added lightly.

Dean swallowed, drawing his brows together, "Are you saying, that not only does my girlfriend die…but my _daughter_ is going to die as well?"

The doctor's lips pulled into a tight line, "We can't be for sure. It'll be a miracle if she does. I'm sorry." Dean closed his eyes with a pained look washing over his face, "As the parent," the doctor begun to explain to Dean, "You and the mother have 24 hour visitation in the NICU. You may can call anytime, but you will have to give the band number over the phone. It will be provided to you shortly." Dean nodded to the doctor, taking in the information. He swallowed, glancing to my body drawing his lips in a tight, thin line.

After the doctor left, I sat on the edge of my bed, gazing up to the boys numbly. "Guys, come on." I said, "Sam. Dean. Go find some hoodoo priest to lay some mojo on me." Tears fell onto my lap, staring at each one, desperate for some form of connection.

Sam turned to avoid Dean seeing the tears in his eyes and walked out of the room. I got up, looking to Dean; who watched as he left. "Sam?" I glanced from the door to Dean, who had hung his head, "Aren't you gonna go with him?"

That was until a soft, strained gasp sounded from Dean. Alone, the sound of the heart monitor and breathing machine humming, Dean was letting it sink in of what had happened a few hours prior. I watched, stricken with grief, as Dean sat, crying. Slow, painful seconds ticked by as I watched the man, whom I loved with my heart and soul, cry over my body at the very thought of myself and our daughter dying. The deafening silence that had fallen around him was beginning to make it clear that he was going to be alone.

Moments later, he stood up wiping his face with his hands and casted a pained glance over to my body. "Fight this. You gotta, Abs…" He looked up to the ceiling, and pursed his lips as he exhaled, "For Sam." He approached my bed, reaching out to brush away a few tendrils of my hair, "For Dad." Dean leaned over, careful to not touch anything important, "Please stay." He whispered, "For me. For…" He bowed his head, inhaling sharply, "For Megan. We need you. _I_ need you."

With my lip trembling, I nodded. I had been standing a few feet away from him, "I know."

He kissed a spot on my forehead before he straightened up, wiping a lone tear away quickly and walked out of the door to catch up to Sam.

Standing in my room alone. I nodded again, fresh tears falling freely, "I know."

I left my room, walking down the halls catching sight of Dean and Sam's figures walking into another room. Jogging, I trailed behind them seeing John lying in a hospital bed, his arm in a sling. The demeanors of both Sam and Dean had changed drastically from being completely shattered, to as if nothing was wrong.

I had done the same out of habit.

He looked up at us, hazel eyes—like Dean's—assessing his sons. Silent for the most part, he awkwardly pulled something out of his wallet, one-handed, handing it to Sam, "Here. Give them my insurance."

Sam took the card his father gave him, peering down at the name and smiled, "Elroy McGillicutty?" Dean and I smirked.

"And his two loving sons, and adopted daughter." John replied with a smirk before it vanished as quickly as it had come, "So, what did the doctor say about Abigail?" An uneasy silence fell in the room. Dean hung his head, not speaking. "Dean?"

Dean looked up at his father appearing lost, "She, uh…she's lost a lot of blood." He replied, uncomfortable, "She apparently has contusions to her liver and kidneys, punctured a lung…" John nodded taking in the severity of my injuries, "and early signs of cerebral edema."

I watched the man I called father's face darken, "The baby?"

Dean kept a stony appearance for John, "Abigail had a girl…they said it's only a matter of time."

Sam's lips pursed, "The doctors won't do anything to help them, then we'll have to, that's all." John and Dean looked at him, "I don't know, I'll find some hoodoo priest and lay some mojo on them or something." Standing off to the corner of the room, I gaped.

"Sammy, did you—did you just hear me back there?" I spoke softly, earning a quick glance into my direction from him. I felt my forehead wrinkle in surprise. _He had._

John nodded a little distracted by something, "We'll look for someone."

Dean looked unsure. However, Sam looked determined. Between the both of them, Sam looked more determined to find a solution while Dean looked like he was still reeling over my unconscious body. I frowned. He needed to put his head in the game. "Yeah." Came their replies.

"But, I don't know if we're gonna find anyone." John said quietly, looking from Sam to Dean.

Sam's brow furrowed, "Why not? Abigail and I found that faith healer before." I crossed my arms, nodding. It was definitely worth a shot. Seeing the look in John's eyes, I had grown uneasy. I didn't like it, and I think he knew I wasn't going to make it.

Dean's face hardened. "That was—that was one in a million."

Sam turned to face him, "So what?" He threw his hands up, letting them slap his thighs, "Do we just sit here with our thumbs up our ass while Abigail and the baby just die?" He asked, angry.

"No," John said sharply, clearly interrupting something Dean was about to say, "I said we'd look. Alright?" I gazed at Sam and Dean, watching them slowly nod at his words. "I'll check under every stone." There was a beat between his words, before fixating on Dean, "Where's the Colt?"

My mouth dropped in shock…it wasn't really shocking that the old man would instantly revert back into his old, obsessive self again and focusing on his two decade old vendetta against the thing that landed me and my daughter on death's door.

Sam scoffed in disbelief, "Your daughter and granddaughter is dying, and you're worried about the Colt?"

"We're hunting this demon, and maybe it's hunting us too." John said in his usual dictatorial voice, "That gun may be our only card."

"It's in the trunk." Dean replied for Sam, "They dragged the car to a yard off of I-83."

John nodded, "Alright. You boys gotta clean out that trunk before some junk man sees what's inside."

"I already called Bobby." Dean answered, "He's like an hour out, he's gonna tow the Impala back to his place."

"Alright," John said, "Sam, you go meet up with Bobby. You get that Colt, and you bring it back to me. And you watch out for hospital security." Sam nodded and I sighed. _Typical_.

"I think I've got it covered." Sam replied with a smirk.

"Dean, stay with Abigail and keep an eye on her and the baby. They're your responsibility."

Dean nodded, "Yes, sir."

John motioned to the door, "Go on." Dean and Sam got up to leave the room, "Sam." He called out quickly, stopping them both. They exchanged curious looks before Sam nodded his head to Dean to go ahead. With one last look, Dean left, sulking. I watched intently at the exchange between Sam and John. He picked up a piece of paper, "Here. I made a list of things I need, have Bobby pick them up for me."

"Acacia? Oil of Abramelin?" Sam read aloud, looking up at his father confused, "What's this stuff for?"

"Protection." He said. I inclined my head and snorted at his lie.

"That's a crock of shit and you know it, John Winchester." I said, "You're up to somethin'."

I watched closely as Sam moved toward the door, pausing briefly to look at him, "Hey, Dad?" he asked, "You know, the demon, he said he had plans for me, and children like me. Do you have any idea what he meant by that?"

John steeled at his question, "No, I don't."

"What about Abigail? And the baby? What did he mean that she was a rare find and that she won't get in the way of those plans?" He asked.

John inhaled sharply, "I wish I knew, Sam. Now, go on and do I what said." Sam stared at him for a moment longer before he left, shutting the door. I stared at John as he leaned back in the bed with a loud sigh.

"Well, you sure know somethin'." I stated.

* * *

**_Sam's Point of View_**

**_Junkyard_**

My heart sank upon seeing the twisted and mangled remains of the Impala. It was surreal that we had even survived that. I blew out a quick breath of air, "Oh man, Dean is gonna be pissed. I'm kinda glad he didn't go with me on this one."

Upon seeing the crushed in rear passenger side door, I couldn't help but feel nauseated with dread. No one could survive a hit like that. No one. I forced myself to not think about the worst case scenario right now.

"Look, Sam." Bobby said lightly, "This..." he gestured his hand to the wreckage, "this just ain't worth a tow. I say we empty the trunk, sell the rest for scrap."

"No." I said firmly, shaking my head, "Dean would kill me if we did that." I saw the troubled look in Bobby's eyes, "When Abigail and him gets better, the two of them are gonna want to fix this."

"There's nothing to fix. The frame's a pretzel, and the engine's ruined. There's barely any parts worth salvaging." He explained.

I turned to him, "Listen to me, Bobby. If there's only one working part, that's enough. We're not just going to give up on..."

Bobby nodded solemnly, "Okay. You got it."

"Here, uh, Dad asked for you to get this stuff for him." I handed over the list that Dad had made. Judging from the look Bobby made, I shifted.

"What's John want with this?" He asked.

I shrugged, "Protection from the demon?" Bobby scowled at me, "What?"

"Oh, nothing, it's just, uh—"

Aside from fearing the worst with Abigail, another wave hit me and it was pertaining to the list this time. "Bobby? What's going on?" I asked slowly.

Bobby fell silent for a moment, then relented, "This ain't no list to protect yourself from the demon or any demon for the record, boy." It was like ice just seized everything within me, "This is a list to _summon _a demon."

I gaped, "That-that can't be."

Bobby tapped the paper, "The paper doesn't lie, Sam. Now, I'll get the stuff for your daddy, but the rest is up to you to find out."

I ran a hand through my hair, "Trust me, Bobby. I will." This couldn't be happening. Was he seriously as self-centered and as selfish to take on the demon while one of his kids were dying along with his granddaughter? I couldn't hardly think straight. I knew better than to agree to do this.

I popped the trunk, quickly finding the Colt. I narrowed my eyes at it. This thing is what landed Abigail and her baby in the hospital. Only because I couldn't pull the trigger and do what Dad told me to do. I shoved it into my jacket pocket without another glance, then moved to close the trunk, only to pause, seeing something. It was black and yellow, crumpled up into an unfashionable ball. Leaning in, I picked it up to see that it was the batman baby outfit that Dean had gotten Cody—Megan, now.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at it for a long moment, and I laughed to myself. _So much for having a nephew._ I thought to myself with a sad smile.

"Dean get that?" Bobby asked from behind me.

I looked over my shoulder and nodded, "Yeah. He bought it a couple of months ago, back when we were on a job."

"Dean would have to like seeing that." Bobby said, "Maybe it'll get him out of the dumps for the time bein'."

I nodded, "Yeah. It'd have to do something for him." Carefully, I folded the small outfit in my hands and picked up the little beanie with ears on it, the set of mittens and socks with the symbol for batman on it. It'd have to do something.

Bobby placed his hand on my shoulder, "Abigail is gonna pull through, Sam. She's been around you lot for too long. If Megan is anything like her parents, I know for a fact she'll pull through." He patted my shoulder once, "I'll go find you that stuff, and I'll hook the car up and be on my way."

I nodded, "Thanks Bobby."

"Anytime."

* * *

**_Abigail's Point of View_**

**_Abigail's Room_**

Dean and John had gone up to the NICU to see Dean and I's child for the first time. I stayed behind, feeling like I didn't deserve to see my child. I had failed her. Like a statue, I stayed in my room, waiting for someone to come up with some kind of cure for this coma. Sam had had been gone now for over an hour, when a set of footsteps alerted me. I twisted around at the edge of my bed and saw a nurse wheel John into my room. Thirty minutes crawled by. In that time frame, John had done nothing, and I mean _nothing_ to find someone to heal me, to even call Charlie and Kara to let them know I was even dying and that I had given birth!

I was so far past upset, I had swan dived straight into unthinkable and unrelenting bitching. I paced back and forth in my room behind him, "C'mon, Dad. You've gotta help me!" I ran my hands through my hair, "I've gotta get better! I can't leave them alone! I-I can't leave Dean, Sam, and my daughter by themselves, they need me!" I spun on my heel to pace, "I mean, you haven't called a soul for help. You haven't even tried!" Tears welled up in my eyes, "Aren't you going to do anything? Aren't you even going to say anything?"

I rounded behind the chair till I was in front of him, so I fell to my knees, staring up at the man that had saved me so many years ago, "I've done everything you have ever asked me. Everything. I have given… everything I've ever had." I said, "And you're just going to sit there and you're going to watch me die? After all that you and my father have been through…after all I've done for you and the boys." I shook my head, narrowing my eyes as rage flourished in my chest, "I mean, what the hell kind of father are you?"

Just as I was about to rip into John again, he took a breath. It was sharp, quick. I closed my mouth, leaning down to inspect him, curious. John leaned back in his chair, smiling inwardly to himself.

"What's so funny?" I asked him, knowing that he wasn't going to hear me.

"When you came into this family, I wasn't sure that I was able to keep my word for Steven." He admitted, and I faltered, quickly falling silent. "Times where hard, and it was hard enough feeding two growing boys. To raise you?" John shook his head with a smirk, "Girls are a different story, but there you were. You were strong…you had to be. Steven taught you well." It was a rare sight to see John open up like this. Very rare.

"Sam latched onto you the minute he knew you were staying with us. And Dean…he thought different, acted different. Like he had to show you up on everything you two did together, like it was some kind of competition." I couldn't speak. John took a deep breath and exhaled, "Twelve years, Abigail. Twelve years." He murmured, gazing to the heart monitors and machines that had been hooked up to me. "Looking at Dean and Sam…I still see Dean, four years old and I still see Sam when he was six months old. It's unreal that they've grown up."

"I turn around for a second and look back, and Dean's a father…Sam went to college…and then, I see you with them…they look to you for guidance, like you're their anchor—their support….you were able to provide them something that had been missing in their lives for so long, they didn't even realize they had it." John pressed his lips together in a line, looking down at his hands that were folded in his lap, "The way Dean looks at you, Abby…" His shoulders rose when he took a deep breath, "The way he looks at Megan in that incubator…I can relate to how he's feeling right now…he looks at the both of you like how I still see Mary."

"Dad…" I said brokenly, seeing his fractured gaze.

"The boys need you. Your daughter needs you, and I refuse to let the son of a bitch take you away from her, like he done Mary." His voice hardened, "Abigail, if you can hear me, so help me, I will find a way to bring you back. You need to fight harder."

"I am." I told him, "I swear to you, John, I am."

"You were never a Colt." He said to my body, "Not all the time. You're a Winchester, so you need to fight like one."

I nodded, firmly, "Always." A noise from outside caught my attention, and I glanced back at John. I stood up, gripping the back of my gown and paused, "What is that?" I asked aloud, then rolled my eyes. "No one's gonna hear you stupid. You're pretty well dead."

Walking out into the hallway, a green spirit whooshed past me. Startled, I jumped back, looking back to John, "I take it you didn't see that!" I groaned, shaking my head, "Hell of a day to be half-dead…" Following the spirit down the hallway, taking corners, I stopped. In front of me lay a woman on the floor, choking.

"Help! Help!" She called out. Around her were files and papers scattered.

I looked around wildly, "Hey! I need some help in here!" I yelled out at the top of my lungs.

"I can't... breathe!" She gasped out, trying desperately to breathe, before going silent. I leaned over her feeling totally helpless.

"I'm sorry." I whispered out, "I'm so sorry."

* * *

**Dean's Point of View**

**_Abigail's Room_**

I sat beside Abigail's form, my hand in hers. Quietly, I brushed the pad of my thumb across her bruised knuckles.

"Abs, you should see her." I told her softly, "Looks just like you." My lips stretched into a small smile, "She's gotta lot of fight in her…just like you." The plastic bracelet I had around my wrist to the NICU was uncomfortable. I used my free hand to tug at it, looking down at it sadly. "You won't believe how small Megan is, Abs. She's a pound and a half…nine inches from her head to her butt. Sam's seen her…even Dad. They can tell ya."

I laughed lightly, stroking Abigail's knuckles, waiting for a response. The clicking of the life support machine and heart monitor provided my only response from her. "And she has _so_ much hair, Abs. You'd be so proud of her…I know I am." Tears pricked in my eyes. Taking the back of my hand, I swiped at my eyes, "God, Abs. I wish you'd wake up so this chick-flick moment can end…" I studied her face, swallowing down a hard lump in my throat, "Sam brought that Batman outfit I got when we thought Megan was a Cody." I forced myself to laugh, "I say we slap a tutu on that mother and call it cherry."

There was still no response. Abigail was still in the same shape…cuts, bruised, the gash...and her face. It was so pale, like her lips. I had to look away, back down to her hand. There wasn't anything in this world I wanted more than to hear her laugh. "Say something, Abs." I whispered. "Call me an ass. Tell me that I'm just some idiot in tinfoil…yell, cuss, _anything_. Just…_say_ something."

I balled my hand into a fist, "Damn it, Abigail!" I yelled out, standing up. I turned my back to her, the steady beeping of the monitors sounding, "You can't do this to me! You can't just up and quit!" My hands slapped against my jeans, and I turned, "You promised me you wouldn't leave me." I shook my head at her form, "You _can't_. You can't just give up…not while our daughter is fighting with you. I need my girls with me."

An alarm suddenly started blaring. My chest clenched and I looked up to the monitors, searching for the cause, seeing that the heart monitor was flashing. The feeling of dread overcame me and I looked over at Abigail, shaking. "No." I said, moving to her, "No, no, no."

* * *

**_Abigail's Point of View_**

**_John's Room_**

I felt ragged. Tired. When the nurse had come to take John back to his room, I followed him back. As far as I knew, Dean was still up in NICU with our daughter. She couldn't have been more than almost a day old, and I knew she already had him wrapped around her finger. Despite the tightness I felt in my chest, my saddened smile faded quickly when Sam stalked into John's room with his duffel bag in tow. I stood up, meeting him at the door.

"Sammy! Tell me you can friggin' hear me!" I said quickly, glancing around, "There's somethin' in the hospital. A-a reaper or somethin' that goes bump in the night. Doesn't matter." I said shaking my head to stop my rambling, "Now, you've got to bring me back, get Dean's head in the game, and we've got to hunt this thing." I gaped when Sam paced, turning his back to John, narrowing his eyes at me or at least, in my direction, "Sam!" I snapped. I watched his eyes drift from the floor upwards and inched closer to him.

"You're quiet." John said, and the bitchface had returned to Sam's face.

Sam turned, obviously fuming, and hurled the bag onto the bed with a loud thump, "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

John stared at him calmly, "What are you talking about?" I rolled my eyes at him.

_Of course you know, John._ I thought to myself ruefully.

"That stuff from Bobby, you don't use it to ward off a demon, you use it to summon one." I looked between Sam and John, clearly shocked. Where was Dean when you needed him? "You're planning on bringing the demon here, aren't you? Having some stupid macho showdown?!"

"I have a plan, Sam." John said, still very calm.

"That's exactly my point!" Sam exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, "Abigail and Megan are dying, and you have a plan! You know what, you care more about killing this demon than you do saving your own daughter and granddaughter!"

I groaned, rubbing my chest gingerly at the dull ache, "No, no, no, guys, don't do this!" I looked to the door, worried. "Where's Dean? He should be walkin' in right now to stop this!"

"Do not tell me how I feel!" John snapped, "I'm doing this for them!"

"How? How is revenge going to help them?" Sam challenged, "You're not thinking about anybody but yourself, it's the same selfish obsession!"

"Come on guys, don't do this!" I begged, looking to each of them, upset. My hand stayed over my heart…it literally felt like it was breaking or falling to pieces by the minute. This was new.

"You know, it's funny, I thought it was your obsession too!" Sarcasm was practically dripping off his words, "This demon killed your mother, killed your girlfriend. You begged me to be part of this hunt. Now if you'd killed that damn thing when you had the chance, none of this would have happened!"

Sam's face had turned beet red from anger, "It was possessing you, Dad, I would have killed you too."

"Yeah, and both Dean and Abigail wouldn't be in the shape they're in!" John spat out. His eyes were flashing with malevolence, like he was getting ready to get up out of the bed and get into a fist fight with Sam. I got in between the two of them, extending my arms, ignoring the pain.

"Shut up, both of you!" I yelled.

Sam's face twisted with vehemence, "Go to hell."

"I should have never taken you along in the first place. I knew it was a mistake, I knew I was wrong —" John started in with the accusations and highlighting our wrong doings. I had enough of it.

"I said _shut up!_" I screamed, smacking a glass of water off the table, sending it to the floor with a crash. After it shattered, Sam and John fell silent, confused. I stared at the table, then flickered over to the broken glass and water on the floor with a stunned look. "I full-on Swayze'd that mother. Dean would be proud." After a beat, pain slammed into me. It wasn't anything like before. It wasn't dull or aching. It was like someone was stabbing me in the chest. I crumpled, seeing my hand in front of me flicker, just like Dean had done earlier.

Nurses and doctors started running by John's room in the hallway. I straightened up, clutching my chest. "This can't be good." I mused with clenched teeth..

"_Sam! Dad_!" Dean's frantic voice called out.

John looked to Sam, concerned, "Something's going on out there."

Sam and I ran to my room, seeing Dean standing outside with his hands grasping his hair. The nurses and doctors had kicked him out of my room, hearing the shrill squeal of the defibrillator and a loud thump. Trailing close behind Sam in the hallway, I was forced to lean against the wall, clutching my chest in pain.

Sam stopped beside Dean, looking in at the scene, horrified. "Abs, no." He whispered.

I whimpered out slightly, looking down at my hand, but saw nothing. Slowly, I came to stand behind them, peering between the gap to see doctors and nurses flocking around me. I couldn't be dying. I just _couldn't_ be! "No." I said firmly, "I'll be damned."

The doctor nodded, "Okay, let's go again, 360." He placed the two pads together and placed them on my bare chest.

"Charging." She told him. I closed my eyes, desperately wishing that this was some fucked up nightmare. "All clear!" The nurse unhooked the AMBU bag away from my breathing tube.

"Clear!" Said the nurse as the shrill squeal of the defibrillator began charging and my body arched up. I fell to my knees from trying to catch myself on Dean and Sam, only to watch brokenly as Dean ran hands through his hair once again, tears in his eyes, looking to the monitor to see a single arch, then back to a flat line. Sam stood beside him, crying and fidgeting from being so distraught. There was so many emotions running through me, it had become almost unbearable.

"Come on, come on," muttered my doctor_, _determined_. _

"Still no pulse." The nursed hooked the AMBU bag back and started squeezing—forcing oxygen into my lungs. It was the most uncomfortable feeling I had ever felt.

"All clear!" the doctor said. Between Dean and Sam, I felt distressed and lost and hopeless. I felt so empty and scared.

"Clear!" shouted the nurse as everyone stepped away from me. Another painful jolt surged through my body and I yelped out, watching as my body rose up even higher than the last couple of times. Dean ran his hands through his hair, slowly stepping away from the doorframe and watched helplessly while they tried to revive me. Everything was just so painful and terrifying.

"Nothing." said the nurse.

"Okay, let's go again." said the doctor.

"Clear." said the nurse, as my doctor shocked me once again. Nothing.

"Come on, Abs," I heard Dean whisper out, "Please, don't. Not you." I swallowed hard, glancing to Sam, and saw him watch everything. Tears flowed freely down his face, staining his cheeks. It wasn't a second when I looked back to my body, I saw a ghastly green figure hovering over it. I glared at it, getting to my feet quickly.

"You get the hell away from me!" I snarled out, running to the bed and got up in the creature's face, "I said get back!" When it wouldn't budge, I grabbed it since I had no other form of weapon. I wasn't leaving this place without a fight, but grabbing the thing…that was probably a no-no. As soon as I did, I was slung backwards across the room.

"No change, starting CPR," announced her doctor, handing the paddles to the nurse by the crash cart, beginning chest compressions.

"Still nothing." said the nurse, and at that moment, the heart monitors had slowed down into a steady rhythm.

"We have a pulse." The head nurse in my room announced after checking my throat for a pulse, "We're back into sinus rhythm."

I got up, mind totally on going after whatever had me, and ran into the hallway searching for the damned thing. Needless to say, I had come up empty handed. I heard a relived sigh and the sound of a pair of feet shuffling back. I turned to see that Dean was to his feet, patting Sam on the shoulder in a consoling manner; their faces paled with fear and worry, only Dean's was expertly masked.

"Told you she'd fight." I heard Dean tell Sam in reassurance, though in a shaky voice. I smiled sadly, standing by the two of them.

"You guys don't gotta worry, Sammy." I told him, glancing to look at Dean, "I'm not going anywhere." I watched the nurses and doctors disperse for a moment, "I'm getting' that thing before it gets me. I need you to listen to me, carefully, Sam." I sighed, "I don't even know if you can hear me or not—you make it believable for me, Sammy. Do me a favor and get Dean's head in the game. He's all sappy and lookin' like he's lost his dog. I ain't gone yet, and neither is Megan. We're here and we're fightin' the good fight, no matter how long it takes." I looked around for another sign of ghastly image I saw, "This thing—It's some kind of spirit, but I could grab it." I reached out, knowing that neither man was going to feel me, but I placed my hands awkwardly onto each of their shoulders, "And if I can grab it, I can kill it. I'll be back. I promise."

I stayed beside them until the room was clear and both of them had the okay to come inside. The both of them flocked inside like two mother hens, though, Sam and I hung back watching Dean with tears in our eyes. He leaned over my body pressing his lips to my temple, whispering, "You ever scare me like that again, I'll kick your ass when you wake up."

I snorted in amusement, folding my arms across my chest, "Well, Winchester, you better pack a lunch and bring some friends on that one."

Sam jumped like he had been startled, and turned his eyes squarely on me. I grinned, _knowing_ for a fact now that he had heard me, "That's right, Sammy-boy. I'm right here. I'm not some figment of your imagination." I grinned wider when I saw his eyes widen further, "Grab a Ouija board and I'll talk to you more. I gotta find somethin', but I'll be back."

I took another look at Dean before I went to go find whatever that thing was. I saw him leaning over my body with his forehead pressed to mine while his thumb was petting the side of my head.

_Don't worry, babe_. I thought, resting my hand on the door frame, _I'll come back to you_. _'sides, I ain't your average bear, Boo Boo_. I turned to the opposite direction when I heard someone crying out.

"Can't you hear me?" said a female voice, "Why won't you look at me?"

"Oh now what?" I exclaimed. I did _not_ have time for shit like this. I needed to find that thing and kill it before it came back. After a moment of thought, I couldn't help but ask myself that maybe…just _maybe_ this girl might know what's going on. Maybe she knew how I can get back into my body.

I walked into the middle of the hospital corridor, and saw a young girl, around my age with short dark hair and fair skin going up the stairs.

"Somebody talk to me!" she cried out, trying to get someone's attention. "Say something, please!" she screamed out of desperation.

I felt sympathetic for her. I knew where she was coming from. "Can you see me?" I shouted to her. She spun around.

"Yes." she said in total shock and relief that I could see her. I saw her face, and something was just making my stomach feel nauseous.

I had to stay calm, for both of our sakes. "A'ight, just, uh, calm down. What's your name?" I asked her.

"Tessa" she replied taking a step down, unsure if this was real.

I nodded, "Okay, good. Tessa, I'm Abigail."

She climbed down the stairs, "What's happening to me?" She said with worry, "Am I dead?"

My shoulders lifted in a half-assed shrug, "That sort of depends." I said honestly.

* * *

We were standing and staring into a hospital room; Tessa's. She was lying in a bed hooked up to machines similar to mine. There was an older lady sitting by her bedside holding her hand. I felt her pain, hoping that Tessa would wake up. It was the same look Dean had after my heart stopped. Now I have to watch this girl's life hang in the balance with mine as well.

"I don't understand. I just came in for a simple appendectomy." Tessa said in confusion, but calm like.

"Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think there were some complications." I said bluntly.

She looked over at me with knitted brows, "It's just a dream, that's all," she said in denial, "It's just a very weird, unbelievably vivid dream."

I felt bad for the girl, but I had to tell her the truth, "Tessa. It's not a dream."

"Then what else could it be?" She asked.

"You ever heard of an out of body experience?" I asked her.

Tessa looked at me with disbelief, "What are you, some new age-y girl?"

I snorted, "You see me messin' with crystals or listening to Yanni?" I asked her, in a serious tone. "It's actually a very old idea." I added, "Got a lot of different names: Bilocation, crisis apparition, fetches...I think it is happenin' to us. And if it is, it means that we're spirits of people close to death." I felt my heart racing at the thought of me dying.

"So we're going to die?" Tessa asked me with worry.

"No," I said firmly, "Not if we hold on. Our bodies can get better, we can snap right back in there and wake up." I had to see Megan. I wondered if she knew that I loved her dearly. I had to go see her, to be able to hold her and watch her grow up. I worked my jaw oddly for a second, then gestured her to follow me. "Come on, I have to check on somethin', but we will find a way to get back. I promise." I turned to head to the NICU with Tessa right beside me.

* * *

**_Sam's Point of View_**

**_John's Room_**

"What do you mean, you _felt _something?" Dean stated, sounding incredulous or disbelieving.

I shrugged, looking up at him and over to Dad, "I mean it felt like, like _Abigail_. Like she was there, just out of eyeshot or something." I shook my head. "And—and, I could've _sworn_ I heard her voice." Dean's eyes widened slightly, "I couldn't really understand what it was exactly she was saying, but it was reassuring." I looked from Dean's shocked face to Dad's stern gaze, "I don't know if it's my psychic thing or what, it... But do you think it's even possible? I mean, do you think her spirit could be around?"

Dean's eyes went to our Dad for guidance. I suppose he was hoping to hold onto something that was plausible. Something that meant bringing Abigail back and having Megan in stable condition. Dad nodded, "Anything's possible."

I nodded in affirmation. That was all I needed to know, "Well, there's one way to find out."

Dad and Dean exchanged a glance, "Where are you going?" Dean asked.

I waved him off, "I gotta pick something up. I'll be back."

Dean shrugged his jacket on, "I'm going with you."

I nodded, seeing Dad look at me, I knew he had something to say. I looked over to Dean, "Ah. Head on out, I'll be right behind you."

Dean furrowed his brows at me confused. He still didn't know of Dad's intentions to summon the demon. Relenting, he nodded, and walked out of the room.

"Sam. I promise I won't hunt this demon." He told me, glancing every so often to the door, "Not until we know Abigail and the baby's okay."

I felt a weight lift off my shoulders when he said that. It was believable. After what had just happened to Abigail, we couldn't take another hit like that on Megan's end. It would be too much for Dean. Walking out of the room, I already knew that Dean was in Abigail's room. It was one of three places I _knew_ he'd be at. The other two would've been Dad's room and the NICU. Stepping out of the room, Dean stared at me for a long moment.

"You didn't tell Dad everything." He deadpanned. I opened my mouth to say otherwise, but instead, I simply nodded. Dean narrowed his eyes slightly, looking me over with a scrutinizing look. "I'm gonna level with you, Sam." My brother said, running a hand across his face wearily, "I'm tired—too tired to even function—so, if you're just saying that you _thought_ you heard Abigail, then don't—"

"I did." I said firmly, "As clear as day, but it was off. Like, talking into a bottle or something. Look, man. You don't have to believe me, I get it."

Dean held up his hands defensively, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. I never said I didn't believe you, Sam."

"Abigail is here, just…not _here_ here." I explained, "She usually doesn't shut up when she's around."

The corner of Dean's mouth started to twitch either with condescension or amusement, "Well, then, what're you waiting for? We have something to get."

* * *

**_Abigail's Point of View_**

I was walking in the hallway with Tessa on my way to the NICU to see Megan. I was worried about the boys and my daughter, and when I look at Tessa, she seems so calm and reserved. That was a little unsettling, even for me.

"I gotta say, I'm impressed." I complimented her, trying to find out more about this girl.

"With what?" She simply asked me.

I arched my brow at her, "With you." I answered. "Most people in your spot would be Jell-O right now, but uh," I gestured to her with my hand, "You're takin' this pretty well." Her eyes widened a smidge. "Maybe a little better than me." I laughed softly, shaking my head at myself, "Here I am worried about my premature baby girl, my boyfriend, his brother, and their father…what they're gonna do about this situation. But you…?" I trailed off, frowning.

"Don't get me wrong. I was pretty freaked out at first." She said openly, "But now, I don't know." Her shoulders lifted up, "Maybe I'm dealing."

I tilted my head at her statement. Maybe that was the case. Other people react differently to things. So, maybe this was one of them. However, continuing my time with Tessa, I couldn't help but feel something odd about this girl. It was a nagging feeling—one I often got on jobs or when I roamed old folks home or even during short stints in the hospital. It was a just something that I _could not_ place my finger on it.

_Why can't I tell if she is something supernatural?_ Maybe I couldn't see evil in this life. This was an entirely different world than what I was used to. I took a moment to wonder if that thing was after me, then felt an icy chill of fear shimmy its way up my spine. _What if it's after Megan too?_ Anger bubbled in my stomach at that though. I'd be damned if I let that happen.

I inhaled sharply, "So you're okay with dealin'?" I asked, shoving those dark thoughts out of my head, even if it was for a second.

Tessa shook her head, "No, of course not." She replied, "I just think, whatever's gonna happen is gonna happen. It's out of my control, its fate."

_Fate_, I thought, _what the hell kind of fate let's my heart stop in front of two guys I care about more than anything in this world suffer through that? What kind of fate would let a baby be born this early?_

"Well that's crap. You always have a choice. You can either roll over and die, or you can keep fightin', no matter what—" I stated, only to be interrupted by the PA system.

"_Room 237, code blue. Dr. Kripke to room 237, code blue_."

My eyes widened. That wasn't good. I had to see what was happening. I started to run where the doctors and nurses were going.

"Where are you going?" asked Tessa from behind me.

"Just wait here." I ordered, before running to the room where the doctors and nurses were going into. I saw them surrounding the body of a little girl trying to resuscitate her. My heart clenched painfully as I watched one performing chest compressions while a nurse was behind the headboard using an AMBU bag. I saw the ghostly figure hovering her body—the same one that was over mine earlier today. I clenched my jaw and fists. I couldn't let that thing take a child away. As long as I was still alive—half-alive, anyways, I won't let it.

"Get away from her!" I shouted to it as I lunged forward the same way I did before when it was near me. I saw it reach its hand out to her face and I saw some movement come out of her. Then it vanished just like that. The machines were blaring throughout the room, declaring that she was gone.

"Okay, let's call it." Said one of the doctors.

I could not believe that they gave up on a little girl. She barely got to live her life. To go to college like Sam did, fall in love and have a child like Dean and I have gone through. This girl was never going to grow old, and do so much. My heart was breaking at the thought, and I had become overwhelmed by this loss of life. I guess being a new mom kind of changes perspective on things.

"Time of death, 5:11 pm" Said another doctor.

I heard a young nurse say to them, "At least she's not suffering anymore."

_Oh my God_, I realized, _That was a, uh, reaper_. A reaper was after me. I need to tell the boys. I walked outside of the room, and headed towards mine. I saw Tessa, and I walked right passed her.

"Where are you going now?" she asked.

"Not now" I said in a hurry. As I came up to my room, I saw that I was alone with the sound of the machines clicking. I was taken aback at my own body.

_My God_, I thought, _I look even paler than before._ My eyes caught something glinting in the light, and fully looked, seeing something by my hand. I saw Dean's silver ring on my ring finger. Approaching my body, I felt tears forming in my eyes and a lump growing in my throat. I guess Dean wanted to make sure that he was here even if he wasn't. I seriously loved that man.

Sitting down, I began to stew in my thoughts. Between meeting Tessa, watching that little girl die, and the realization that a reaper was after me; it just seemed like my world was crashing down. With Tessa…she was too well-adjusted to _this_. It felt like I had been in a coma for a while now, and I was _still _freaking out. It was just a constant mindfuck to be honest. Dean and Sam were both MIA at the second, and from what I hear, John had been up to the NICU again to check on Megan.

From Dean and Sam, I hear that she's fighting just as hard for a baby, but the news wasn't good. Apparently it was a miracle all on it's own for her to have survived this long for a preemie. There was a lot of things that Dean wasn't mentioning. I saw it in his eyes and I _felt_ how heartbroken he was…how, empty and lost he was.

Everyone was.

Tensions were high, tempers were flaring. I snapped out of my analysis on the current events due to the door to my hospital room opening. It was Sam and Dean. Sam was clutching a brown paper bag, looking around the room. I remained sitting in the blue recliner, seeing Dean's annoyed look.

"Dude, how do you even know if she's in here?" He said in a low voice.

Sam glanced at him, "I don't." He took out a box labeled, _Mystical Talking Board,_ and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Oh, you've _got_ to be kidding me." Dean said sarcastically, "That's what you had to get?"

Sam shot him a dirty look, "It'll work…I think." Dean threw his hands up slightly, and Sam sunk to the floor in front of my bed, pulling out the board, "Abigail? You here?" he asked. I slipped onto the floor in front of him.

"God, I feel like I'm at a slumber party." Dean grumbled, leaning against the wall nearby, crossing his arms. Sam and I sent him a withering look, and placed my fingers lightly on top of his, sliding the pointer to 'Yes'. Sam gasped, looking up to Dean, who looked alarmed, "Did you do that?" he asked.

"No." Sam said quickly, licking his lips and smiled, "Uh, Abigail…it's good to know that it's you." I arched my brow at him, "For sure knowing it's you." Dean and him exchanged a glance, "It hasn't been the same without you, Abby."

Dean was quiet, "Damn straight." He murmured. I directed the slider from the H and quickly spelled out 'HEY YOU'. Dean make a soft noise in the back of his throat, something like a scoff or a laugh. His eyes rose up to the ceiling for a brief moment.

Sam furrowed his brows, "Hey, you?" He looked over to Dean, "What's that-?" Then he mouthed, 'oh'. Dean nodded, hanging his head and nodded loosely.

"Hey, you." He said in a softer tone. I smiled at him, beginning to spell out 'BABY'.

"B-A-B—Baby?" Sam asked, as Dean straightened up upon that, furrowing his brows, "Megan?"

I nodded, pulling the slider to 'Yes' once again.

"She's doing fine." Dean said, "She's a fighter." I smiled softly, knowing Dean was keeping close tabs on the both of us, and spelling out 'TALK'.

"Sammy, I know you can hear me." Sam glanced to Dean almost uncomfortably, "Don't mind him. Talk to me. I'm here."

Sam nodded, "I can hear you, Abigail. But just barely."

I practically fell backwards with relief, "Thank God. Totally not into this _Lassie_ thing lemme tell ya." Sam laughed, earning a spooked look from Dean.

"Sam, what are you doing?" He asked slowly.

"Talking to Abigail." Sam replied.

Dean glanced to the board, "No, you're talking to the wall."

I rolled my eyes at him, "Tell him he needs to stop being a princess."

"Stop being a princess." Sam said simply. Dean furrowed his brows at him.

"What?" Sam shifted his eyes to where he presumed I was at. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Listen, I don't have much time to talk, I'm huntin'." I said, and Sam furrowed his brows.

"Hunting?" Sam asked, eyes flickering over to Dean, worried.

"What do mean, hunting?" Dean asked, "We're in the hospital."

I was quiet for a moment, "Can't get any clearer on that one, Einstein." Sam furrowed his brows.

"Abigail, what are you hunting?" Sam asked. I could feel how tense the both of them where. I got up due to how wound up I was getting, "Do-do you know what it is?"

"I don't know." I stated, "A Reaper probably."

Sam looked confused suddenly. His eyes widened, searching. "Abigail? Abs, you still there?"

I smacked my forehead, "Great. Lost service." Dean's eyes widened as well. I went back to the Oujia board and sat down in front of it, pushing the slider to I-D-K. Dean nudged Sam's leg with his foot, nodding towards the board. Sam shifted in front of the board. The both of them were intent on the slider.

"She's still here." Sam said, offering Dean some kind of reassurance. Their eyes followed the slider, and they looked at each other confused.

"I-D-K?" Dean said slowly, "I don't know? How don't you know, Abs?" I rolled my eyes at him, sliding the slider to spell out R-E-A-P, and I watched the color drain from their faces.

They were silent for a moment. "Sammy, I don't know how your reception is right now, but I don't think it's killin' people..." I fell silent myself for a beat, "I think it's takin' them. You know, when their time is just up."

"A reaper." Dean said, "Are you sure?"

I pushed the slider to 'Yes', watching the muscle in his jaw tick when he clenched his teeth.

"Abigail," Sam said slowly, "Is it after you?"

Feeling their apprehension come in waves, it only multiplied mine. When dread slammed into me, I knew that was coming from Dean, and it was heartbreaking. Sam stared down at the Ouija board, expectantly.

"Abs…" He said softly, "Is it after you?"

I blew out a pensive sigh, pushing the slider to 'Yes', and their head bowed for a moment. They were clearly upset at the end result.

"If it's here naturally, there's no way to stop it." Sam concluded, gazing up to Dean, who stared intently down at the board. The right side of his face was sunk in just a hair, like he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. Judging by the narrow eyed expression, he looked like he was about blow a gasket.

We all knew what that meant if a reaper was on my tail. You can't kill Death, you just can't.

"Abs, you're, um—" Sam said.

I nodded, "I'm screwed, boys..."

Right then, Dean jumped to his feet causing the both of us to jump at the sudden movement. His eyes were flashing with the usual stubbornness of a Winchester and sting of denial, "No." He said firmly, "No, no, no. There's gotta be another way." Sam and I watched him with solemn resoluteness as he began to pace, running his fingers through his hair, "Abs, you can't just give up. Not like this! Not when our daughter is up there in the same condition."

I squeezed my eyes shut upon feeling the painful waves of every feeling that rolled off of Dean. He was so persistent that was going to pull through this, like I was just fine and going to wake up any second. The reaper wouldn't be here if I was going to get better. I pulled the slider out of Sam's hands, seeing them both look at it as I spelled out 'PROMISED', and looked up at Dean. His face was written in denial, and narrowed his eyes at the board when I moved the slider to 'Goodbye'.

"Sam, you go talk to Dad. He'll know what to do." He ordered, not looking to the empty space where he assumed I was at, "I'm gonna keep an eye on Megan. Let me know something." Dean was about to leave the room until my assigned doctor walked in looking down at the charts in his hand, rather grim. I frowned, fear creeping its way up my spine. My breathing became faster, and my palms got sweatier. It wasn't just my fear, it was from both Dean and Sam.

"Hey Doc," said Dean, so hopeful, "is Abigail getting better?"

My doctor just looked at the boys' faces that were full of hope about my condition, and I was just as curious, if not just as scared. The grim look on his visage didn't make me feel any better. "Boys, we need to talk."

"What about?" Sam asked as he looked at Dean, worried.

"Why don't you have a seat?" said my doctor gesturing Sam to the empty chair next to Dean's.

"I prefer to stand, thanks" Sam said firmly as his jaw tightened.

I furrowed my brows a little at his body language, "Just calm down, Sam" I said to Sam, reassuringly. I just hoped he heard me.

"We ran some more tests after her, uh..._episode_ yesterday. And now we just got those tests back," I could sense that he was going to finish a sentence Dean and Sam will refuse to believe. "The edema in her brain has increased. The fluid that had been on her brain increased, causing her to have a stroke, which lead up to her cardiac arrest."

That was a hard pill to swallow. I suddenly found it hard to stand and sat at the end of my bed. Numbly, I stared up at the doctor. _I can't believe it._ I thought, _I had a stroke._

I looked to Sam and Dean and I felt the dread that overflowed them. I could just feel Dean's heart breaking. I could sense that he was being strong for Sam, but was unable to hide it from me. He could never hide much of anything—even when we were younger and at each other's throats. It was also one of the things I admired about him. He refused to let Sam see how tormented and depressed he was. Instead, he always pulled himself together and kept a level head.

It was something that came naturally to anyone that was the eldest sibling.

There was a dead silence for a beat, seeing Dean's eyes slowly narrow at the doctor, "So, what are you trying to tell us?" asked Dean. My doctor looked at him with sad eyes.

"Well, either you can either keep her on the machines that are keeping her alive and this will happen again," he began, "or you boys and your father could say your goodbyes and we can take away the pain that she is in."

"So damned if you do and damned if you don't." I muttered, seeing saw Dean's face harden as he gripped my hand.

"Are you telling me that you are giving me the option to pull the plug on my girlfriend?" Dean's voice rumbled in his chest.

From under his gaze, the doctor shifted uncomfortably, glancing to Sam, bewildered, "Mr. McGillicutty..." the doctor tried to calm Dean down, but he wasn't having it.

Dean got out of his chair in a huff and charged at the doctor, eyes flashing dangerously. "No, you do not give me that crap. You are a _doctor_ for Christ's sake! You're _supposed_ to heal people and give their families have some kind of hope! _Not_ the complete opposite! Did you forget that she has a daughter; that _we_ have a daughter?!"

I glanced between the two men, growing anxious at how angry he was becoming. And as a result, I was feeling it, "_Dean…_"

"We were lucky that we got her back from that episode," The doctor explained to him, "The next time this happens she might not be that lucky." Dean's jaw worked oddly as he spoke, "If she ever wakes up, there could be some permanent brain damage. She might not even remember you, your brother, or your daughter."

I felt this nasty pit in my stomach. _I might not remember my daughter_. I covered my mouth from letting the cry escape me. _As if anyone could hear me_. My entire body was trembling combining the thoughts of not watching my daughter grow up, kissing Dean's lips again, or being Sam's shoulder to cry on. There was so many unknown things that were happening all around me, and I swear to you that I could feel it crashing down on me.

I felt so helpless. So shitty.

Dean stared at the doctor, "Listen to me, you brought her back to me before, and you will do it again. You are _not_ pulling the plug, and that's final."

"_Dean_, stop it." I said sharply, glancing to Sam to see if he heard me. He didn't.

Dean pointed to the door and growled, "Now get the hell out before you see a side of me that you don't wanna to see." And with that, the doctor left my room.

I stood up, glaring at him even though I knew I shouldn't have, "You didn't have to act like that." I said as he turned and headed toward his chair to sit beside me. Dean grasped my hand as he rubbed my forearm with his free hand.

Sam was heading towards the door to make sure no one was listening or coming in, then looked to his brother, "Don't worry, Dean. I'm gonna go talk to dad, and see what he has to say about reapers." As he turned around to look at Dean, his face saddened. He was gripping my hand as if it were his lifeline. His eyes glittered with unspent tears.

Between him and Sam, I think Sam could sense that Dean was near his breaking point—a thing he had never seen. I watched Sam walk toward him. Coming up behind Dean, he placed his hand on his shoulder and gripped it in reassurance. "We'll get her back, Dean."

Dean's mask instantly came back to cover up the fact he was distraught, "I'm getting my girls back." Dean vowed. He motioned his head to the door, "Go talk to dad. They're _not _pulling the plug on Abs. Not when she's still fighting to get back—don't come back until you've found something."

Sam pressed his lips in a thin line, "Dean…"

"_Now_, Sam." Dean ordered him.

Helpless, I watched as Sam looked at Dean, and he gave him a simple nod.

"Dean!" I snapped, looking around the room to find some way of catching their attention. To let them know I had heard everything, and saw everything. I looked to the door, seeing the grated window. Walking to it, I had let out all of my frustration and pent up emotions that I had felt for the past two days, allowing my fist to collide against the window, therefore, cracking it. They both jumped ten foot, spinning around to see the cracked window with wide eyes.

"I take it she's mad." Dean muttered to Sam, who stared at him, bitchface in full effect. As stubborn as he was, Dean stared at the window, "I'm not giving up on you, Abs. Not yet. So be mad at me all you want."

I threw my hands up and hung my head back. _That was about as useful as man tits._

Sam furrowed his brows, "I'm gonna go check on Megan after I talk to dad, you don't have to go." And like that, Sam left the room to talk to John and check on my little girl. After everything I had heard, I wished I was able to see her, at least once.

I frowned, "Don't think like that, stupid." I said aloud to reassure myself, "You're not dead yet. Sammy's gonna talk to John, and I know Dean's not gonna give up without a fight…_stubborn ass_." I watched as Dean ran his fingers along my forehead, glancing to the machines and watched them force oxygen into me. I hated seeing him like this, and after what the doctor said and what was after me, I have never seen him this lost.

"Don't worry, Abs." He said softly, as he kissed my battered up knuckles, "We are gonna fix this. You're gonna be just fine. Just...live." I felt a sense of longing flare up in the pit of my stomach. His eyes trailed up to the tube that was sticking out of my mouth with a deep frown. Dean stood up, pulling out his handkerchief to wipe away the saliva that had accumulated at the corner of my mouth. He did this pretty often whenever he would come back from the NICU, and would use his free hand to reach up to my mouth, and stroke the part of my lips that were not taped.

He flexed my hand so my palm was visible, and he placed it on his cheek. I could feel the prickliness of his unshaven cheek in my own hands, and I felt my heart shatter when he gripped my hand tighter, leaning his head against it and broke down. Alone in this room, Dean had let down his walls, allowing himself to dwell and stew in his own misery. It wasn't long that he bottled himself up again, lying his head against his arm on my bed and fell asleep.

I heard my door open and turned, seeing Sam with John's journal. He saw Dean sleeping on the side of my bed. "Abigail," he whispered, "If you're here, Dad wasn't in his room."

I furrowed my brows in confusion, "Where is he, Sam?" I asked him.

"But I have dad's journal," he pulled up the other chair to the other side of my bed and sat down, "so who knows. Maybe there's something in here." Flipping through the pages of John Winchester's hunting journal, I noticed that he would look up at me every now and then. I felt his fear of having my heart stop again. He looked over to Dean, who was snoring away.

I smiled at him. He a good little brother to the both of us, and an amazing uncle. I came up from behind him, watching his dedication to finding an answer. "Thanks for not giving up on me, Sammy." I said. I looked at my still body hooked up to the machines. Then, I looked at the scene in front of me; Dean asleep holding my hand on one side of my bed, and Sam sitting on the other side reading the journal as I was laying in my bed. This scene was so real it struck a chord in my heart. If I wasn't possibly dying, it would have been a perfect Kodak moment.

Taking a deep breath, I leaned over Sam's shoulder and saw that he had found the section that said 'REAPERS'. I wanted to read to get my mind off of some things. As I was reading, every fell into place. "Son of a bitch." I growled, "I knew it." I stormed off to find Tessa.

Coming down the hall to where Tessa's room was, I stopped short, only to find it empty, and Tessa was there alright, but not in her hospital clothes. This time, she was wearing a dark, sleeveless blouse with dark pants sitting on the empty hospital bed.

I folded my arms, narrowing my eyes at her, "Appendectomy my ass." I grunted.

She looked at me, "Hello Abigail."

"You know, you read the most interestin' things." I started off, walking towards her slowly. "For example, did you know that reapers can alter human perception? I sure didn't." I started to pace in front of her very slowly, like those cops on _Law &amp; Order_ do to the suspects in questioning. "Basically, they can make themselves appear however they want. Like, say, a pretty young girl. You are way too pretty than the last reaper I saw—who, by the way—tried to kill my boyfriend."

She looked at me amused, "I was wondering when you would figure it out."

"You see, I can normally see supernatural bein's—get a feelin' of them, sense them. I should have known." I said, still pacing the floor like a lioness in her cage. "That whole 'accepting fate' rap of yours is far too laid back for a dead chick. But the mother, and the body? I'm still tryin' to figure that one out."

"It's my sandbox," she explained, "I can make you see whatever I want."

I couldn't believe with what I was hearing, "What, is this like a turn-on for you? What, toying with me?"

"You didn't give me a choice," she started out, "You saw my true form and you flipped out. Kinda hurts a girl's feelings. You should know how that feels." I just stared at her. She did not know my love life, "This is the only way I can get you to talk to me."

_What the hell is she talking about?_ I thought, _talk about what? _"Okay, fine. We're talkin'." I couldn't _wait_ to hear this answer, "What the hell do you want to talk about?"

"How death is nothing to fear." She said standing up and walking towards me and then taking both of my hands in hers, "It's your time to go, Abigail. And you're living on borrowed time already."

I couldn't believe it, she was the one after me. She tried to take me away from the people I love. She might take Megan next. I shook my head slowly at first, then started to back away, "No, I won't let you take me away from my daughter!" I told her, "You can go to hell! And you are not takin' my baby!"

I ran out of the room and toward NICU to my baby. I wasn't going to let that conniving bitch take me away from Dean, Sam, John, and Charlie and Kara. I wanted to see little Gavin take his first steps and maybe showing Megan how to walk. I ran in a huff—screaming—_hoping_ someone could hear me, and then before I knew it, I was thrown on my back to the floor.

"Could you keep the noise down?" said a man, "I can't hear the other screams coming from down the hall."

Bewildered, I looked at this guy who was looking all cocky with his red sucker in his hand. He seemed familiar, and he had _wings_. I furrowed my brows, staring at them.

"Hey, eyes are right here, honey." He said with a snarky smirk on his lips.

Looking him in the eyes, I narrowed mine, "Who the hell are you?" I asked.

He placed his hand on his chest, skewing his face in an offended expression, "And I thought you'd remember me. Tawas Bay, Michigan. Summer of '93. Ring any bells, sweetheart?"

"How'd you know where I tried to drown myself?" and then it hit me, "I remember you now."

He flashed me a grin, "Yup. We have done a lot of things in the past, but this is the worst joke you could pull."

I snorted, "No shit"

"Now, madam." He said as he reached down to help me up, "why in such a hurry to die?"

"I'm in no rush to die, thank you," I corrected him, "I am trying to get to my daughter; to save her."

This man, someone I had _no_ idea who he was, grinned in delight, "Ah, you had a girl, congratulations!" He said, gladly.

I ignored him, "I need to save her. If the reaper is after me, then my daughter might be next."

"I see." he said, contemplating. "So...where do I come in all of this soap opera crap?"

"If you had the power to send me back at the lake, then you certainly have the power to spare the life of my baby."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, popping the sucker in his mouth for a minute, "You know," He said, pulling it out and waved it in my face, "You and Dean should be like on _Days of Our Lives_ or something with the love story you have going on."

"Will you save her?" I shouted, growing agitated.

"Keep your soul in place, honey." he said, "All in due time."

And then like that, he was gone. I turned to run towards the NICU, but then Tessa showed up around the corner, "You can't cheat death, Abigail." she said, "Now...let's talk."

* * *

**_John's Point of View_**

**_Boiler Room—Night_**

All bets were off at this point. I made a promise to Steven and Avery that I would protect Abigail, and by God, I was going to keep my word. The boys needed her and her daughter needed her. I wasn't going to allow my granddaughter go through the loss of her mother, like Dean and Sam had gone through.

Pushing the door to the boiler room of the hospital, I entered, closing the door behind me and hefted the duffle bag on my shoulder. Walking through the dimly lit hallway to a clear space, I placed the bag down and unzipped it, pulling out a box of white chalk and started to draw a large symbol on the floor. _If everything goes according to plan, Abigail will be alright._

Upon finishing the symbol, I placed several candles and a black bowl around it, then started to say an incantation. Pulling out a knife, I slid it across my palm and watched as blood welled to the top of my skin. Clenching my fist, I allowed it to fall freely into the bowl, and lit a match, dropping it in. A quick flash of light, I stood up looking around for some sort of sign that the incantation had worked.

A hand grabbed my shoulder from behind, "What the hell are you doing down here, buddy?"

I turned around to see that the janitor had caught me red-handed. "I can explain."

"Yeah?" he said, "You're going to explain to security. Come on. You follow me."

I quickly drew the Colt, and cocked it, "Hey. How stupid do you think I am?"

The janitor smirked, those haunting yellow eyes that had tormented me and my family, glowed, "You really want an honest answer to that?" He asked, tauntingly.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed two men in lab coats stalk by and take positions behind me.

"You conjuring me, John. I'm surprised." The demon said, "I took you for a lot of things. But suicidally reckless wasn't one of them."

"I could always shoot you. "

The demon smirked, "You could always miss." He let out a taunting laugh, "And you've only got one try, dontcha? Did you really think you could trap me?"

"Oh, I don't want to trap you." I replied, lowering the gun, "I want to make a deal."

The demon looked at me, intrigued.

* * *

**Welcome to Part One of the first chapter of _Strike Back_, the second installment of _Bad Company_! I hope you guys have had a great holiday break and an amazing New Year's! This was _supposed_ to come out New Year's to celebrate it, but between school and my baby nephew making his grand entrance to the world, I have been a little busy, so please forgive me!**

**I'd love to thank _Ladysunshine6_ for lending me some help with writing a few scenes that included Tessa! She has been an absolute angel! We're both excited to finally get here!**

**I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise.**

**I would absolutely die if fanfiction .net took this down for my stupidity.**

_**Ladysunshine6**_** also started her fanfic back up, _Ain't Easy in the Big Easy_. So, stay tuned for more chapters from her!**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! If this chapter came out a little jumpy between POVs or awkward in some places, let me know so I can get to it as quickly as possible! Let me know how I'm doing!**

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**The song for this chapter: _Picture Perfect_ by Escape the Fate.** **(If you haven't listened to the song, do so now! I tear almost every time I hear it!)**

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**sarahmichellegellarfan1\- I'm so glad that you're excited for the new chapter! I sincerely hope you enjoyed it!**

**Jenna West21\- I'm a little apprehensive, but I got this! I'm excited to get started on it! There will be a lot of things going on in this installment!**

**angelicedg \- I hope you enjoyed it! c:**


	3. In My Time of Dying (Part Two)

_So watch my chest heave_

_As this last breath leaves me_

_I am trying to be_

_What you're dying to see_

_I feel like "Fuck man,_

_Can't take this anymore._

_This heart breaks_

_This is life that's so thankless,_

_How could he just forsake us?_

_Breaks us he makes us_

_Hate us he gave us_

_Nothing but no trust_

_And I am so fucked up_

_So let this gun bond us_

_Let's hide by this lust_

_And once we are just dust_

_He'll know that he loved us_

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Empty Room—Night**_

"Look," I began, trying to find a way to buy me some time, "I'm sure you've heard this before, but... you've gotta make an exception, you've gotta cut me a break." I stood near a window, staring out at the street below. The only thing staring back was my own reflection.

Tessa folded her arms, "Stage three: bargaining." She acted like I didn't know what I was doing.

I turned toward her, "I'm serious. My family's in danger." I tried to reason with her, "See, we're kind of in the middle of this, um, war, and they _need_ me."

"The fight's over." She replied, shaking her head.

I tried my best to fight back the bite of tears, "No, it isn't." I told her in a light voice, shaking my head, "Not for me."

"It is for you." Tessa said to me gently, "Abigail, you're not the first soldier I've plucked from the field." She took a step toward me and I took a step back, "I know of you. I know what happened to your family, and I'm truly sorry about it. I helped them cross over—" I hung my head, squeezing my eyes shut. This wasn't happening, "Your father, your mother, every soldier I've helped—they all feel the same."

Slowly, I gazed up at her through tear soaked lashes, "They can't leave. Victory hangs in the balance. But they're wrong." She made halfway across the room until she was reaching out to take my hands in hers, "The battle goes on without them."

I stared at her for a long moment, then glanced out the door, "But Dean and Sam…my daughter—they could die without me." I couldn't just _let go_. Not while there was still a war going on—not while the demon was still alive. I promised them I'd come back. I _promised_. They were my new lease at life after my family died. Those two were my responsibility. I felt like I kept them together—anchored them when the going got tough.

"Maybe they will, maybe they won't. Nothing you can do about it." Tessa replied, watching as I took my hands away from hers and turned my back to her. I covered my mouth, allowing another round of unshed tears to escape. I tensed when she touched my shoulder, "It's an honorable death—a warrior's death."

I scoffed at her, "I think I'll pass on the seventy two virgins, thanks. 'sides, I got all I need here."

"That's funny." Tessa said with a smile.

I blew out a breath to calm myself down, for at least a moment, "There's no such thing as an honorable death." I pointed out to her, "My corpse is going to rot in the ground and my family is going to die!" I narrowed my eyes at her and shook my head in defiance, "_No._ I'm not going with you, I don't care what you do."

"Well, like you said, there's always a choice." Tessa looked at me with contemplation, "I can't make you come with me, but you're not getting back in your body. And that's just facts. So yes, you can stay. You'll stay here for years. Disembodied, scared, and over the decades it'll probably drive you mad. Maybe you'll even get violent."

"What are you sayin'?" I asked.

"Abigail, how do you think angry spirits are born?" She stated, "They can't let go and they can't move on. And you're about to become one. The same thing you hunt."

* * *

_**John's Point of View**_

_**Boiler Room—Night**_

"It's very unseemly, making deals with devils." The demon said, "How do I know this isn't just another trick?" He asked me.

"It's no trick." I told him firmly, "I will give you the Colt and the bullet, but you've got to help Abigail and her baby. You've got to bring them back."

The demon twisted his meatsuit's face into a sneer, "Why, John, you're a sentimentalist. If only your kids knew how much their daddy loved them."

I glared at him, "It's a good trade. You care a hell of a lot more about this gun than you do Abigail."

The demon slowly paced, looking me in the eye with a cocky look, "Don't be so sure, Johnny-boy. She and your boy killed some people very special to me." He tilted his head with a smug expression, "You just don't know how much of a liability she is to what I have planned—well, not her exactly. That abomination that she gave birth to—"

"My granddaughter is not an abomination." I bit out, earning a raspy laugh from him.

"But still, you're right, she isn't much of a threat. And neither are your sons." I bowed my head at his words, raising my eyes at him, "You know the truth, right? About Sammy and your precious Abigail? And the other children?"

I nodded slowly, "Yeah. I've known for a while."

"But they—Sam and Abigail—don't, dothey? You've been playing dumb, especially with Sammy."

I clenched my jaw, "Can you bring Abigail and my granddaughter back? Yes or no?"

The demon smirked, "No." His lips twisted into a coy smile, "But I know someone who can—it's not a problem."

"Good." I said, feeling slightly relieved.

"But, you only get to choose _one_." The demon said. I felt my eyes give away the extensive amount of shock that I felt, "Little Abby or Little Megan. Your choice, Johnny." The demon put his hands in his pockets and paced a little bit, before stopping, "You know—if you choose Abigail, Dean and Sammy have their little mommy-figure and everything will be honky-dory. They'll get over the death of their child. Abigail and Dean can just have another kid—there's nothing to it. A few drinks, a little touching—"

"_Shut up_." I growled out.

His grin widened, "If you choose Megan, you and your boys will have another reason to kill me by taking away your little girl. More of a reason for Dean to become the basket case he is, and liable to drink himself into an early death. He's got a lot of issues, you know. Daddy issues."

I glared at him with vehemence. I couldn't bring myself to make a choice—Abigail, the only person that was close enough to be my daughter, or Megan, my only grandchild. I hung my head in despair, I was running out of time and options.

"Tick-tock, tick-tock. Time's a wasting, Johnny-boy." The demon sang out, "If you don't choose, none of them will live. It's a win-win situation for me, John, but it's a win-lose for you."

_Mary, please forgive me_. I thought, "Abigail." I said finally.

"What was that?" He asked me, "I couldn't quite hear you. You gotta speak louder than that, son."

"Save. Abigail." I repeated through clenched teeth, catching the demon's eyes flash with morbid glee, "But, before I give you the gun, I'm going to want to make sure that Abigail's okay." I finished, "With my own eyes.

"Oh, John, I'm offended. Don't you trust me?" The demon chuckled, as I shook my head, "Fine."

"So we have a deal?" I asked, wanting to get back up to the room so that Dean or Sam didn't become suspicious.

"No, John, not yet. You still need to sweeten the pot." He told me.

"With what?" I asked.

"There's something else I want, as much as that gun. Maybe more."

* * *

_**Sam's Point of View**_

_**Abigail's Room**_

An hour passed by and I found absolutely nothing to help Abigail. The silence in Abigail's room was near deafening, except for Dean's snoring and the machines. Glancing up from Dad's journal, I watched Dean for a second. I didn't really know how long he had been out, but he was going to be pissed that I didn't find anything. I tossed the journal onto the bed, causing Dean to jerk awake, looking over at Abigail's comatose body almost in disbelief. When he realized that she was still in the same shape, he looked over to me and hung his head.

"You find anything?" He asked, swiping a hand down his face roughly to wake himself up. Dean was wore out, I was too.

I sighed, "I couldn't find anything in the book." I said, seeing him frown at me, "I don't know how to help her, Dean."

"Did you talk to Dad?" he asked, tiredly.

"That's the thing, he wasn't in his room." I replied, "But I'll keep trying, alright? As long as she keeps fighting, we may still have a chance..."

Dean nodded, "Yeah…"

"But…" I trailed off, shaking my head. Dean furrowed his brows, resting his arms on the side of the bed.

"But, what?"

"If we can't save her—" I began, trying to be the voice of reason. To remind him that we made a promise to her.

"We _will_, Sam." Dean snapped, "You're acting like she's dying. You heard her! She's fighting to get back in there!"

I narrowed my eyes at him, "I'm just saying, Dean. What if we _can't_ save her?" I asked him. My brother rolled his eyes at me and got up from his seat, turning his back to me, "You heard what her doctor said. She probably won't even remember us if she wakes up!" I got up from my chair, crossing the room to him, "Dean," I said softly, "We made a promise to Abigail to drop everything and try to save Megan."

Dean looked over his shoulder at me with a dark glare, "_Don't_."

"She wanted us to pull the plug on her!" I argued, "It's what she wanted."

"Sam, I am not in the mood to hear your crap." He growled out, "I'm giving you a fair warning. You need to leave."

I stared at him in disbelief, "No." I spat, "Abigail is as much as my sister as she is yours, and I love her just as much as you do! I have as much say in this than you and Dad put together!"

Dean spun around, grabbing me by my shirt and slammed me up against the wall, "I'm not pulling the plug on her, Sam! She's _my _responsibility!" His eyes were wide and distraught, "I can't give up on her, like you're doing!"

"I'm not giving up on her, Dean!" I said pointedly, "I'm being realistic!"

"So am I!" He yelled at me, "Abigail isn't going to just roll over and die, not when Megan is up there! Not when we're still fighting this demon!"

I was just about to hit my boiling point with him, and shoved him back. "Abigail _is_ dying, Dean! You need to get your head out of the clouds and face reality!" Dean clenched his jaw, staring me down with a murderous glare, "Megan has a chance when Abigail doesn't."

"Abigail _does_ have a chance, Sam! You heard her, or have you forgotten?" Dean snapped.

"Abigail isn't going to make it, Dean!" I shouted at him, "You need to accept the fact that she's gone! The only thing keeping her alive is those machines," I pointed to the life support, staring Dean down, "and guess what, you're doing nothing but hurting her…if you loved her—"

Dean coiled his arm back and punched my jaw, "You're a selfish bastard, you know that?" I gingerly brought my hand up to my face, glaring at him upon tasting copper. I pulled my hand away, seeing blood on my fingertips from my lip, and ran my tongue against it.

"Yeah, I get that a lot when you're too stubborn to see what's really going on." I stated coolly, "You need to let her go. I did with Jess—"

"Abigail is _not_ Jess, and I _will_ _not_ let her go! _Not_ like this! If she dies, this on me!" He shouted, tapping his hand across his chest, "Not you, not dad—but me! She was there for me—"

"When I wasn't. Yeah, I get it." I deadpanned.

"Boys." The both of us spun around to see Dad standing in the doorway with a stern face. Dean instantly shrunk back, averting his eyes like he had done the greatest sin. I remained near the wall, holding my face. His eyes looked me up and down before they flickered over to Dean for a moment, "What's going on, that you two have to act like a bunch of idiots?" Dean remained silent, glaring over at me from the corner of his eyes, "Don't look over at your brother, Dean. Look at me if you have an attitude." He said sternly, and Dean clenched his jaw, narrowing his eyes at him instead.

"They're wanting to pull the plug on Abigail." Dean finally said.

Dad looked over to me, "Is this true?"

I nodded, letting my hand fall to my side, "Yes, sir…they said that she wasn't getting any better. She had a stroke caused by the edema, and-and she went into cardiac arrest." I shook my head a little, "If she _did_ wake up, there was a chance she wouldn't even remember us." I swallowed down a lump in my throat, "Dad…she's suffering."

John nodded quietly, glancing between the two of us for a moment, then allowed his eyes to fall on Abigail. His expression was hard, but the look in his eyes were contemplative, like he knew something and we didn't. "We're pulling the plug."

"_What?_" Dean's eyes widened, "Dad, wait—"

He gave Dean a sharp look, "Don't argue with me. Sam's right, as long as she's hooked up to those machines, she's doing nothing but suffering." Dean stared at Dad with a betrayed look, however, he never said a word, "Dean, you're with me. Sam, you stay with Abigail."

Dean and I exchanged looks. I nodded, watching as they both walked out of the room. I turned back to Abigail's body, silently praying that somehow, she would pull through. I sat down beside her, gently taking her cold hand in mine, feeling reality sink in. Blinking away tears, my bottom lip trembled, and I bowed my head, bringing her hand against my forehead.

"Abs, come on." I breathed out, "You can't give up. You gotta wake up." My breath shuddered, "You can't leave me here alone with Dad and Dean. We'll kill each other, you of all people know that." The corner of my mouth twitched at a distant memory, "You were the one that gave me that push that got me into college, Abby. I don't think I could've gotten there without you. You saw so much in me that I didn't realize I had. I just wished things were different…" I wiped the heel of my palm under my eyes, "I love you, Abigail. It won't feel right if this is really the end and me not have the courage to tell you that."

I saw Dean's ring on her hand and I blinked away more tears, "Dean loves you and you both have a baby. For their sake and mine, Abigail, you gotta hold on. You can't go. Not now. We need you, Abigail. The three of us were just starting to be a family again."

The steady beeping of the heart monitor and the clicking of the oxygen bag were the only form of response that I received, "Can you hear me?" I asked softly.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Hallway-Night**_

"Dad, you can't be serious!" I argued, "After everything Abs has done for us, you're just gonna give up on her like Sam?!"

Dad gave me a stern look and halted. I stopped, "Dean, I'm not giving up on her." I furrowed my brows at him. What was he doing then? "Do you trust me?"

I nodded, "Yes, sir…of course."

He took his hands and placed them on my shoulders, "Then you need to trust me on this."

"Okay…okay." I said quietly, looking to the floor.

"You know," Dad said quietly, "When you were a kid, I'd come home from a hunt, and after what I'd seen…I'd be—I'd be wrecked." His mouth twitched into that of a small smile, "And you, you'd come up to me and you, you'd put your hand on my shoulder and you'd look me in the eye and you'd... You'd say, _It's okay, Dad._"

I furrowed my brows at him, looking down at his hands on my shoulders, "Dad…this really you talking?" I asked, feeling uncomfortable and shocked at how he was being.

He nodded, "Yeah. Yeah, it's really me."

"Why are you saying this stuff?" I asked.

"I want you to watch out for Sammy and Abs, okay?" He said.

I frowned at him, "Yeah, dad, you know I will. You're scaring me."

Dad looked sad, like he was running out of time. This was unsettling with me. What the hell was going on? "Don't be scared, Dean." He leaned over and whispered in my ear.

I jerked away with narrowed eyes. I couldn't believe what he was asking me to do, "I can't believe you," I grunted, pissed, "First, you ask me to pull the plug on Abs—the mother of my kid, and now you ask me to do…" I couldn't even finish. Instead, I looked over my shoulder growing aware of my brother being in the room a few feet away. "I'm going to see my kid." And I turned to leave to go be with my baby.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Empty Room—Night**_

I sat on the bed with Tessa behind me, running a hairbrush through my hair tenderly, "It time to put the pain behind you."

"And go where?" I asked.

I heard her chuckle from behind, "Sorry. I can't give away the big punchline." Tessa was quiet for a beat, "Moment of truth. No changing your mind later. So what's it going to be?" She asked in a serious tone.

I turned towards her, my decision weighing on the tip of my tongue, waiting to fall out. Suddenly the light started to flicker and a familiar buzzing droned around us. I furrowed my brows at her, "What are you doin' that for?"

Tessa's eyes widened, "I'm not doing it."

We turned at the same time to a vent in the floor to see black smoke pour out of it. My breath hitched in my throat.

"What the hell?" I asked.

Tessa looked at it, scared, "You can't do this!" She shouted, "Get away!" The smoke came at her and she screamed. I swallowed.

"Tessa?" I asked.

She turned, her eyes glowing yellow, "Today's your lucky day, kid."

Before I could move, the demon placed Tessa's hand on my forehead and I blacked out.

* * *

_**Sam's Point of View**_

_**Abigail's Room—Night**_

Dean and Dad had been gone a while. _Probably talking to the doctors,_ I thought.

There was a loud, strangled gasp coming from Abigail, and I jumped up from her waking suddenly. Her eyes were wide and started to choke on the tube in her throat.

"Abigail?!" I exclaimed, shocked. I slammed the door open to her room and ran out to the hallway, "Help! I need help!" I yelled out. I saw Abigail's hand reach up and she touched the tube in her mouth. I hurried to the bed, and petted her head and held her hand. "Abigail, don't do that, okay. Shh." I saw tears running down her face—she was scared and confused. I felt someone pull me away from her, and I saw dad gripping my shoulders. I saw a team of doctors surrounding her to calm her down in order to take out the breathing tube.

"Go get Dean." Dad ordered. He didn't have to tell me twice.

* * *

_**Dean's POV**_

_**NICU**_

Here I was again in this stupid pink gown that went over my clothes to see Megan—it was _regulation_. This had to be my sixth time up here today; you'd think I wouldn't complain about what they made me wear. I literally looked like a walking bottle of Pepto-Bismol with a hairnet and gloves. I looked absolutely ridiculous, but to be with Megan, I would do anything. Staring at the little bundle of pink, I realized that she was going to be a week old in three days. I sat back in the rocker next to her incubator, blinking out of shock. She was hooked up to wires and there was a tiny tube up her nose. I looked at how fast her chest was rising up and down. She definitely is a Winchester, but I could see so much of Abigail, it pained me deeply to think about what was going to happen.

I put my hand on the glass, "Hey sweetheart, it's your Dad, again." I felt a small weak smile on my face, "You keep on going. It's what your Mom would've wanted." I had to force down the knot that had formed in my throat, "I'm so sorry you won't know her. Your uncle Sammy doesn't know our mom either." I spoke gently into the opening, "Your mother—God—your mother chose your name because she thought you were a fighter. And you definitely are."

My teeth clenched to fight back some of the emotions I had bottled up, "She was my responsibility, Megan, and I failed her." I hung my head, reaching into the incubator with a gloved hand to take my daughter's tiny hand in my finger, and she returned the favor with an iron grip, "It was my fault, and...I am so sorry, Megan." I felt a single tear come down my cheek, then I heard footsteps running this direction, and then banging off the NICU window. Confused, I twisted in my seat and saw Sam with a scared look on his face. As quick as he was in the window, he turned and left in a hurry.

Carefully, I pulled away from Megan, and closed the hatch before I stood up to leave. All I could think about was they were pulling the plug on Abigail without me there. I left out of the NICU, ripping the gown off of me, and started running to her room, hoping I wasn't too late. When I came up to her room, and there were doctors conversing and I saw Abigail's body sitting up in the bed. I saw her eyes were squeezed shut, bowed over the bed, vomiting after they removed the tube.

_She's breathing_, I thought in relief, _Thank God, she's alive_. I started to go in, but someone was holding me back. I looked over to see that Dad and Sam had grabbed me before I could rush in, "Let me go!"

"Dean, not yet." Sam grunted, "They're getting her cleaned up."

I jerked away from the both of them, watching her closely as she let out strangled gasps and coughing loudly before dry-heaving.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Abigail's Room—Day**_

The doctor was looking at me in awe, like he had just witnessed some kind of miracle, "I can't explain it, Miss. Winchester." He said looking down at the charts, "The edema's vanished, you have no sign of a stroke...the internal contusions are healed—your vitals are good." He smiled at me, "You have some kind of angel watching over you."

I smiled wearily, "Well, I gotta say I ain't the average bear, Boo Boo."

Dean and Sam smiled wryly from beside me, nodding to the doctor, "Thanks, doc." Dean said. The doctor left and I leaned back in my bed, feeling rough. This was as bad as a hangover and I was sore. My sides, leg, face, and stomach were aching from the injuries I had received, but I didn't remember anything after the cabin. I licked my cracked lips, looking to Dean and Sam.

"So ya'll said a reaper was after me?" I asked.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, "Yeah." Sam replied.

I furrowed my brows, "How'd I ditch it?"

Dean tucked a stay strand of hair behind my ear tenderly, and shrugged a shoulder, "You got me, sugar pie."

The expression on Sam's face was almost incredulous, "Abigail, you really don't remember anything?"

I rose my brows, pulling my face into a look of genuine confusion, "No." I replied, "Except this…pit in my stomach." I frowned, "Guys, something's wrong…_very _wrong." Dean's hand stroked my hair before pulling me toward him to plant a tender kiss on my temple, "So…we have a daughter?"

Dean glanced to Sam quickly, and smiled, "Yeah, and she's as stubborn as you."

"Have you seen her yet?" I asked.

"All day every day since we've been here." Sam said with a small smile.

My face fell and I blinked back tears, "Is-is she gonna be okay?"

"Yeah." Dean said quickly. Sam gave a warning look, "She's doing fine."

"This is my fault…" I whispered out. Sam and Dean frowned at my statement.

Sam reached for my hand, "Abby, this isn't your fault." He said gently.

"No, it isn't." Dean added, "You're alive and Megan's alive. You having her early, that isn't your fault. Not one bit—" There was a light knock at the door. It was John. Quickly, I wiped around my eyes and smiled at him while Dean seemed to tense up and Sam narrowed his eyes at him.

"Hey dad." I croaked out.

He smiled at me, coming into the room, "How you feeling, girl?"

I shrugged, "Fine, I guess. I'm alive."

John nodded, "That's what matters."

"So, where were you last night?" Sam asked suddenly, growing angry. "You were gone for a while when we needed you."

"I had some things to take care of." John said simply.

"Well, that's specific." He muttered from beside me, and I nudged him in his side. Sam looked over to me with a sharp look and I raised a brow at him.

"Come on, Sammy. I just woke up." I said lightly.

Sam stared at me for a beat, then to Dean and turned his head to John, "Did you go after the demon?" He asked, ignoring what I said. I hung my head, shaking it in aggravation.

John stared back at Sam calmly, "No."

Sam's mouth twisted into a scoff, "You know, why don't I believe you right now?"

"Can we not fight?" John asked suddenly. I raised my head, staring at him in shock. _What's going on here?_ "You know, half the time we're fighting, I don't know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads. Sammy, I-I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I could. I just don't want to fight anymore, okay?"

Sam looked at his father chastised, "Dad, are you alright?

John glanced to each of us and nodded, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm just a little tired." He took a deep breath and sighed, "Hey, son, would you, uh, would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?" He asked Sam softly.

Sam blinked at his question and nodded, "Uh…Yeah. Yeah, sure." He said growing quiet, more dutiful and left, throwing Dean and I a confused look. John looked after him sadly, before turning to us.

I frowned, "Dad, what's goin' on?"

His hazel eyes were filled with sadness, and I _felt _it. It wasn't just sadness, it was regret and fear. I suddenly got scared. I gripped Dean's hand tightly at that. "Abigail, Dean, I'm sorry."

"What for?" I asked, growing anxious. My heart monitor made it evident by the quick beeping. I felt kind of embarrassed about that, but it is what it is.

John was quiet for a beat, "For everything I ever said to you two." He stated, looking to us both, "I shouldn't have said those things to you…especially about your child." Dean looked down, getting upset, "Dean—" he slowly looked up to his father, "You shouldn't have had to say that to me when you were a kid, I should have been saying that to you."

I looked over to him, seeing tears glistening in his eyes, "You know, I put—I put too much on your shoulders…the both of you. I made you grow up too fast, Dean, and I tried to make you forget your family, Abigail. You took care of Sammy, and you took care of me the longest time, Dean. When Abigail came to live with us, the both of you both did that no matter how much you two fought with each other, and neither of you didn't complain, not once."

He took a sharp breath, shifting in his spot, and looked to us with sincerity in his eyes, "I just wanted you to know that I am so proud of you—the both of you." John said, "And I couldn't be any prouder of Megan. The two of you need to keep a close eye on her and Sammy, and make sure they never leave your sight."

I nodded, not really understanding what was going on, "Of course, Dad…but, what's going on?" I searched his face for some kind of clues as to why he was suddenly doing a confessional, "Is-is somethin' bad gonna happen?"

John smiled at me, "No. Not at all, Abby." I couldn't help but feel like this was a lie. It just felt like one, like I had just said it myself. I wanted to believe that, but I just couldn't.

"It's just been a long week, Abs." Dean said lightly, earning a grateful look from his father, "For-for all of us, that's all." The interaction between the two made me uncomfortable. It wasn't unusual for Dean to back John up after saying something, and vise versa…but what I felt from the both of them was completely different than what they were trying to pull off.

"You know…if I wasn't so tired, I'd call bullshit on the both of you." I said looking to each of them. I caught their exchanged glances, "I might've been born in the dark, but it wasn't last night."

John smiled, approaching me, "Just trust me, kiddo." He said gently and hugged me. Thrown off by this, it took me a moment to register the embrace and I hugged him back, gripping the back of his jacket as tightly as I could and fought back tears. He was somehow telling me goodbye.

"You're leavin' again, aren't you?" I muttered quietly into the crook of his neck.

John started to chuckle, stepping back a little to give me a kiss on the forehead before he gave Dean a curt nod and walked to the door where he paused, looking over his shoulder, "I'll be right here waiting until you and the baby get out of the hospital. I promise."

I nodded, even though I didn't believe him.

* * *

_**Sam's Point of View**_

_**Hallway—Day**_

I was heading back to dad's room with his cup of coffee. What dad said had been on my mind since I left Abigail's room. It wasn't like him to get all sentimental. Something wasn't right, and I felt like this needed to be brought up.

_Maybe I can just talk about this with him_, I thought to myself as I walked down the hallway. _Just take it slow and maybe not argue about it. I shouldn't have told him to 'go to hell'. He's my father._ I passed by Abigail's room, and stopped to find Dean cupping her cheek and kissing her. A smile grew on my face, despite the painful tug in my chest. I was truly glad that Abigail had pulled through. The five of us could all watch Megan grow up together; me, Abigail, Dean, and...

"Dad." I breathed out in shock as I saw him lying on the floor. I dropped the coffee and ran to his body, "Dad, hey. Wake up." I shook him, but he didn't move. I blinked back tears, not wanting to believe the worst, and I yelled from the top of my lungs for someone to help him.

Dean and I were holding Abigail up since she was too weak to walk on her own. We saw dad lying stretched out and unresponsive on a bed as the doctors and nurses were performing chest compressions and using an AMBU bag to resuscitate him. The alarms were blaring throughout the room—it was like _Deja vu_.

"I'm sorry, everyone you can't be here." said a nurse blocking the doorway to his room.

"No, no, no, it's our dad. It's our dad!" cried Dean as he was looking at the sight before us. "Come on." he pleaded, handing Abigail over to me. I pulled her into a tight embrace, watching one of the nurses inject dad's IV with something. Abigail was clutching my shirt tightly, hearing her breathing heavy and I felt her body tremble against mine. She was terrified.

After five long minutes, the doctor slowly straightened up with a grim look on his face, "Okay, stop compressions" he ordered. As they stopped, the monitor just gave a single, drowning tone throughout the room.

I couldn't believe this was happening.

"Come on. Come on." I heard Dean plea quietly, his distraught facial expression not changing.

"Still no pulse." said a nurse.

I was in shock. Holding Abigail against me, I looked at Dean, who was pale faced with dread.

"Okay that's it everybody." said the doctor, "I'll call it. Time of death: 10:41 am"

"Dad, no." I heard Abigail croak out, "Oh, God, no!" I felt her back away from me, watching as she ran her fingers through her tangled hair. She mumbled out 'no' multiple times, withdrawing herself into her own personal shell. She was completely losing it, and I could hear her breathing laboring like she was having a panic attack.

"Abigail, listen—" I cringed when she started to scream out 'no' and sob, sliding down the wall onto the floor. I joined her trying to pull her into me, and found myself to only get pushed away. When she done that, I grabbed her arm and pulled her close. As weak as she was already, her struggles weren't a big deal, but had she been at full health, I would've had a problem controlling her.

Her cries literally broke my heart, and I finally looked to Dean, waiting for him to do something. _Anything._ He didn't budge. I then saw a nurse exiting Dad's room, catching a glimpse of his body on the bed. I had to get Abigail calm, she was near hysterical!

I had no other options, "Nurse, do you have something to calm her?" I asked, and she gave me a small, sad smile as she left. She came back with a small needle, and Abigail look at her, instantly growing still with fear.

Abigail started to pull away from me, "No, Sam. No needles."

I held her in her place, "Abs, it will help you sleep."

She shook her head vehemently, "_No_ Sam!" She fought against my grip like a wild animal, crying and pleading, "You can't make me!" She cried out, "Dean, don't let him hurt me!"

I turned to see Dean still not moving. I hissed out when I felt her nails dig my skin, and pushing me away roughly, "Dean!" I called out, "Dean!" I practically pinned Abigail to the wall where she lashed her legs out to kick, and I managed to capture one of them in my leg, trapping her. As the nurse injected her, Abigail let out pitiful slurred pleas to let her go. I blew out a relieved and ragged sigh, knowing for the most part, she could rest. Something had to be done.

I took a moment to hold her up, glancing over her a moment and spotted red seeping through her gown. I frowned at that. _She must've of pulled a few staples from her incision_.

"Abigail?" I looked up and saw her eyes closing before her head slumped over.

"Put her back in her room." ordered her doctor, who had rushed to us, offering to help.

As gently as I could, I picked her with one arm under her legs as the other held her back. I saw her head roll back as she looked like a rag doll.

"Dean." He remained still, "_Dean!_" I barked out, trying to illicit some kind of response from my brother. I didn't have time for this! I followed her doctor back into her room where I placed Abigail gently on her bed. Several nurses were hooking up the monitors back on her, and I heard a fast-paced beep from the monitor.

I looked up at the screen with wide eyes, "She is tachycardic getting ready to go into cardiac arrest. Get a crash cart in here STAT." One of the nurses ordered.

I ran my hands through my hair. _This wasn't happening! _I waited outside as I saw the doctors cut her gown open and exposed her bare chest, catching Dean from the side of me in a rush to get to her.

"Abs!" he shouted.

"Dean, stop!" I grunted out, holding him back. We stood outside the room once again going through another nightmare.

"_Charging_!" shouted the doctor as he placed the paddles on her chest. "_Clear_!" The electric thud forced Abigail's body to arch up. I felt a lump grow in my throat as I saw her come down lifeless. Then a steady heartbeat was heard shortly after. "Back to normal sinus rhythm."

Dean scrubbed his face, unable to take another blow emotionally and mentally. Hell, we both were.

A female doctor come up to us, and introduced herself "Mr. McGullicutty, my name is Dr. Lockhart." She introduced herself. Dean turned to her, "I've been the doctor that has been keeping an eye on your daughter."

"Can we discuss this later, lady?" Dean said, growing increasingly irritated, "We're not up for anymore disappointments."

She smiled, despite the snide comment from him, "Actually, I am here with good news; Megan is doing fine. Her organs and health overall are developing faster than any other premature baby I have ever taken care of."

_I couldn't believe it_, I thought, seeing Dean squeeze his eyes shut and hang his head. Despite the loss of our father, and the near heart-attack that Abigail had went through, I found myself placing my hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tightly. I couldn't believe it. Megan was healing just as quickly as Abigail had. The both of them were alive, but we all suffered a terrible loss.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Woods—Night**_

Sam and I stood watching the fire climb higher in silence. This was it. Our parents—both of them—were now dead. Together in the afterlife, as many religious figures would say. So they may. I didn't know, and I didn't think I wanted to know. I was still reeling, and this funeral pyre had only solidified that Dad was really gone. He wasn't off on some crap hunt or on a Miller Time shift…he was gone.

Abigail had stayed behind. Not that I didn't blame her. She was still in shock and she was still recovering from her injuries and caesarean. Bobby had offered to sit with her a while, so that put my mind as ease.

In the glow of the fire, Sam watched the flames close to tears and fidgeted around, "Before he... before, did he say anything to you or Abigail? About anything?" I heard him ask in a broken voice.

I couldn't look at my brother in the eye and tell him. I didn't have the heart. "No. Nothing."

* * *

**I'm happy to announce that Part Two is out, and it actually ended up being shorter than what I expected. I think that this ended on a good note, as well as settling many of ya'll's minds, despite that John died.**

**I'd love to thank _Ladysunshine6_ for lending some help with writing a few scenes and adding in a few things, so not all credit is going to me, but to her as well! **

**I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise. ****I would absolutely die if fanfiction .net took this down for my stupidity.**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! If this chapter came out a little jumpy between POVs or awkward in some places, let me know so I can get to it as quickly as possible! Let me know how I'm doing!**

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**The song for this chapter: _Paradise Lost_ by Hollywood Undead.**

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**grapejuice101- I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I sure hope that this eased your mind about the baby!**

**giddyfan- Thank you! Hope you liked it as much as I did!**

**sarahmichellegellarfan1- Thank you! That means a lot to hear that! Trust me, I was in tears just writing some parts out as well as writing out John's death. It's hard to let go of a character (even if they're not mine)!**

**ebonywarrior85- Awe, thank you! It was just a little something I came up with. Like my momma says, 'a little bit goes a long way.' haha.**

**angelicedg- Awe, I'm so glad you liked them! I can't have all the credit though, _Ladysunshine6 _helped me out with it-especially when the mystery man comes in! (;**

**Romantic Journalist- Thank you! I try to update the story anywhere from a couple of days to a week/week and a half. It really depends on my homework, errands, if I have to babysit my nephew and sister-in-law, or if my husband has to work or not. There's a lot of factors I try to put into consideration, but I also try to work as efficient and as quick as I can to get it out to you guys!**


	4. Everybody Loves a Clown (Part One)

_Fading, falling, lost in forever_  
_Will I find a way to keep it together?_  
_Am I strong enough to last through the weather in the hurricane of my life?_  
_Can it be a conscious decision?_  
_That I look for ways to alter my vision?_  
_Am I speeding towards another collision in the alleyways of my life?_

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Hospital—Early Morning**_

I couldn't believe it. John was really gone. The last thing he ever said to me replayed over in my mind; _I'll be right here waiting until you and the baby get out of the hospital. I promise_. Yeah, well, a lot of good it did. After about the thirtieth time of crying and sobbing, it still infuriated me. I hadn't been aloud out of my room, I hadn't been able to see my own daughter due to protocol standards, and I endured _several_ long psych exams to ensure that I wasn't going crazy. Believe me, I was just about there from just staying in here longer than what I had to.

Sam and Dean had made the trek with John's body to somewhere secluded for a traditional hunter's funeral—an age old funeral pyre like back in the day. Many frowned upon it, thought it was effective so that whomever died couldn't have something attached and become an aggressive spirit.

_Christ_. I swiped my hand under my swollen eyes to rid myself of another round of tears. I wanted out of this place. I wanted my daughter with me, I wanted Sam and Dean with me, and most of all, I wanted John back. In all my years, I had never felt so alone, granted, Bobby had stayed with me while the boys were gone. At the moment, he had run into town for something—I couldn't really remember what it was he was after—but he said it wouldn't be long.

"Miss Winchester?" a kind, soft voice said, snapping me out of my thoughts. I lifted my head off of my pillow to see a nurse that worked up in the NICU. I think her name was Ashley, "How are you doing today?"

I slowly sat up, feeling the pull of my staples, "I can't complain, I guess." I said hoarsely, "How's Megan doing?"

She stepped into my room, "She's doing just fine, but there is a little implication." Fear flared up within me, then saw her smile to me reassuringly, "Nothing to be worried about though, her stats are seeming a little low—babies often go through things like that. Especially in micro-preemies, like your daughter." I felt the reassurance from her, which seemingly calmed me down. With a simple nod, Ashley smiled, "After a week and a half, I think it's time for you to come meet your daughter."

My eyes widened, "What, now?" I asked.

She nodded, "Yeah, of course!" I shifted in my bed. _Was this really happening?_

"I was cleared?"

Ashley nodded, "Yes, ma'am. Your psych evaluations and everything's come back good. Your doctor cleared you to come up and see her." Despite the lump that formed in my throat, I felt an overwhelming sense of excitement and nervousness, glancing behind her to the door expecting Sam and Dean to come in or Bobby, but neither of them did. I blew out a long and slow breath. This was surreal.

"When can I go?" I asked.

"I sent for a wheelchair just before I came down here," Ashley replied checking her watch, "Should be here any minute." I nodded, running a quick hand through my hair and pulled the hair tie that was around my wrist off, pulling my scraggly mop of hair into a bun so that I looked half-way decent for my daughter. "You really do have a little miracle baby, Abigail."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"When you guys arrived, we weren't sure either of you were going to make it. You were in bad shape, and little Megan was bad off. You two really do have an angel looking over you."

I forced myself to smile despite the pit that had formed in my stomach solidified itself again, "Yeah…I guess we do."

* * *

After making it into the NICU, there were several rooms with incubators and the tiniest babies I ever saw. I couldn't believe my eyes, and from each one, I felt their pain, their loneliness, and their longing to be held. Each one was as scared as the other, which absolutely broke my heart. Ashley wheeled me to the last room. There sat an incubator, the heart monitors above it beeping rhythmically. When we stopped, I leaned forward seeing a tiny baby lying on top a bright pink blanket, and swaddled up in another one.

I suddenly found it hard to breathe seeing the tiny form that was my daughter. "Is that-?"

"Yup, that's Miss Megan." She answered for me, watching as I covered my mouth. Tears blurred my sight instantly when my daughter's tiny form twitched her arms, "Your boyfriend, Dean? He's been up here every day with her—she definitely knows him as her dad."

I swallowed, "I heard."

"He and his brother actually brought in those blankets the other day, right before you woke up." Ashley recollected. I looked up at her with a tiny smile, "You're very lucky to have a family like you do."

"Thanks." I murmured, shifting forward to look into the incubator. All was quiet for a moment until I took a deep breath to ask a question that I didn't really want to hear the answer to, "Do you know when she'll be able to come home?"

"It won't be for a while." She said, "I've seen some stay for a few days, to a few months. With Megan, she'll most likely stay until her supposed due date."

"So, November?" I asked as I kept my eyes on my daughter, watching her chest rise up and down, "Three months."

"Perhaps earlier if she's doing a lot better by that time, but I can't make you any promises." Ashley said.

"It's fine," I told her quietly, "I just want her to be healthy."

"The neonatologist wants to ensure that Megan's going to gain weight and eat properly, breathe without the help of oxygen—which, she's doing great by the way," She added with a smile, "and can meet all of the milestones with little to no problems." Ashley explained, "You'll see her doctor from time to time, so if you or Dean has any questions, don't hesitate to ask."

I nodded, "I'm sure I will, thanks."

"No problem," She replied, "If you want to, you can hold her."

I gaped, glancing back to my tiny child and back to her, "I-I, uh, I might break her."

Ashley laughed in amusement at my concerns as she walked over to the windows, closing the blinds, "No, you won't, Abigail. She's quite tough."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Positive." She replied with a nod, "We're gonna try a little something called Kangaroo care."

"Not to sound stupid, but what's that?" I asked.

"It's where you hold your baby skin-to-skin. It has really good results and benefits." Ashley said before she glanced to her watch, "Actually, it's almost time for her to be fed…do you plan on breastfeeding?"

"Yeah, my mom did it…figured I'd give it a shot." I replied with a small shrug, glancing to the recliner-type chair that sat beside the incubator, then saw Ashley unlatch the lid and lifted it up. After she had it secured, she turned to me.

"How you're going to want to hold her is to take these cords and drape them over your arm, like so," she instructed. I glanced to at least four or five different things coming from Megan, and watched Ashley drape them over her forearm, "Since this is your first time breastfeeding, you'll see her try to move about and inch her way to your breast. Try not to stop her cause looks are deceiving. She'll take a moment to rest, and she'll latch herself, should she not have any problems."

"Has she?" I asked, looking to Ashley.

She smiled, "No, she's been eating great. She takes her bottles like a pro."

I snorted a little, "She's like her dad then. Constantly eats."

"Is that so?" Ashley laughed, taking a step to the side, "Then she should gain weight in no time."

Standing up, I slowly approached the incubator, gathering all the cords and draped them across my arm, "Like this?" I asked, seeing her nod approvingly.

"Yes, perfect." I let out breath to calm me down, cause Lord knows I was shaking like a leaf. I slid my hands under her head and body, which literally fit in my hands, and I carefully took her out, bringing her to my chest. It was definitely hard seeing her hooked up to them, but they were on her for a good reason, and that was something I needed to always remember. It amazed me at how light she was. My daughter was almost as light as a feather, and that revelation brought another round of tears to my eyes.

After I sat down with Megan in my arms, Ashley helped me undo my gown in order to tuck Megan within it, feeling her tiny body against my bare chest. It was the most spectacular feeling I had ever felt. One of the best highs I've ever been on, and it was one that I didn't want to come down from. It had taken Megan a total of five minutes to inch her way down to one of my breasts, another couple of minutes to rest, and finally latched on.

It was definitely an awkward feeling, but it felt right—like how God intended it. Just in that time, I had fallen completely head over heels for my daughter. She made tiny whimpers and sucking noises that made my heart feel like a whirlwind, and the amount of love I felt from her made me want to cry. This was totally new to me. New to Dean and Sam, but this also brought me a light at the end of a rough tunnel.

I gently pulled my gown up over my free shoulder, tucking it under my arm with the cords. I took this moment to take in her features. She was beautiful. Whenever she would peek at me through her long lashes that she got from Dean, a pair of dazzling blue eyes would look back at me. She had the tiniest feet and hands that would occasionally extend from me touching her toes and palm, and my _God_, her hair! I was surprised she had as much hair, but then again, I wasn't surprised due to the extensive amount of heartburn I had.

"Do you know who I am?" I asked her gently, "I'm your momma. I've been asleep for a while." Megan continued to suckle away, making her tiny noises, and I let out a soft chuckle, "You've been the one that's given me heartburn, and a horrible obsession with peanut butter." I looked to her feet again and smile, "and I know those feet of yours do some damage."

There was a knock on the door, causing me to look up warily. It was Dean and Sam. Dean stopped in his tracks, breathless at the sight of me holding and breastfeeding our daughter. "Hey, you." I said gently.

Sam bumped into Dean seeing that I was exposed, then looked away abashed, "Oh, God. Sorry!"

Dean blinked remembering that Sam was there, "Dude."

"Ya'll are actin' like it's the first pair of boobs you've seen." I said jokingly. They smiled weakly at me, and stepped into the room after I gestured them in, "Hell, babies gotta eat, too. Especially since this'n is of Dean Winchester."

Dean chuckled, "I told you she had a ton of hair."

I nodded, running my fingertips over her forehead gently, "That you did." I heard footsteps coming from behind me. I felt familiar fingertips touching the skin on my neck, and smelling the familiar scent of Dean's aftershave as well as an earthy fragrance. Dean placed a kiss on my temple as tears were forming. We were all silent for a moment. I had felt their sorrow and emptiness when they stepped to the door, but after coming into the room, it had all changed to excitement. We all took a moment to not think of the current events and the heartache, and just focused on what we had. Family, birth, life. It's all we had.

* * *

_**One Week Later**_

_**Singer Auto Salvage**_

Since I had gotten out of the hospital, no one has really called me other than Charlie and Kara to express their worry about Megan, myself, and their condolences about John's death. They offered to come down and stay with me for a week or two, but I simply refused stating the same old thing I usually say. I'm the queen of _okay_, here. The master of _I'm fine_. Everything was all honky dory, except…it wasn't. It was far from it, and we were far from being _okay_ or _fine._ Dean was dealing with John's death in his own way by being quiet or pretending everything was fine while Sam was the exact opposite.

"Abigail, what are you doing?" Sam's voice cut through the house, startling me. I fumbled around with the heavy chair that I was moving until it landed on my foot with a painful thud and I yelped out, lifting it up quickly to release my foot. I spun around to see him leaning on the doorframe to the kitchen with his arms folded across his chest and a bitchface in full effect. Instantly, I could feel how aggravated he was, therefore, _I _was aggravated.

"I _was_ movin' this chair until you scared the piss outta me," I muttered rubbing the top of my foot, "_that's _what I was doin'."

He rolled his eyes, "Yeah, and the doctor said to not lift anything over ten pounds."

I rolled mine to match his, "Doctors says a lot of things, Sammy, like don't drink too much beer or it'll give you liver disease, or don't eat too much or you'll get fat—stupid shit like that." I waved a hand at him dismissively, "You can't fart sideways without them tellin' ya a bunch of crock." I gripped my hands on either side of the chair and grunted, then let go again quickly when a sharp pain shot across my abdomen and I leaned forward.

"Abs?" Sam asked, concerned.

"I'm fine." I breathed out, hearing another bang outside, "How long has Dean been out there?"

I looked over my shoulder to Sam, seeing him peer out of a window, "Uh, I think since seven."

I shook my head at him, "You talk to him?"

"Not really, why?" I shrugged, shaking my head dismissively, "Abigail, you wouldn't have asked if you didn't want to know something."

I straightened up, holding my side gingerly, and I turned to look him with an indifferent expression on my face, "He's not really spoke to me today except to ask me something about Megan…that's all."

Sam looked back at me with a soft look and offered me a smile, "That's just Dean being Dean. He's not hardly breathed a word since…you know."

I scoffed, the corner of my mouth tipping up into a smirk, "How could I forget?" I muttered sarcastically, "The day I wake up from some messed up coma and Dad falls over deader'n twelve o'clock." Sam's face twisted into another bitchface and I shrugged, "Well, it's the truth."

"Abigail, neither of you has talked about him." He said stiffly.

I rolled my eyes turning away from him, "Sammy," I groaned out, "C'mon."

"No, Abigail," my little brother said firmly, "You and Dean act like nothing's wrong!"

"Yeah, you're right." I stated peering over my shoulder at him, "Everything is wrong." I lifted my hand a little, only allowing it to hit the back of the chair as Sam blinked at me, astonished, "Hell, before you know it, the stock market's gonna crash and we'll all have to save up on toilet paper and use it as currency!"

Sam's hands flew up in the air, "You know what? I'm sick of your sarcasm, Abigail."

I arched my brow at him, "Yeah, well, I'm gettin' pretty tired of your shaggy hair, but that doesn't mean you're gonna get rid of it." His lips pursed as he ran a hand through his hair at my comment with narrowed eyes. I ignored his pissy look and nodded to the chair, "You gonna help me with this chair or is this gonna become an episode of _Dr. Phil_?"

Sam stared at me coolly, before he relented, "Step aside." I folded my arms, watching as he picked up the chair easily, "Where do you want it?"

I gestured my head over to the wall where I had moved the kitchen table and other chairs to, "Over there's fine." Sam nodded and walked over to the table, setting it down.

"Is there anything else you need moved around for the millionth time?" He asked me.

With pursed lips, I shook my head at him, "No_p_e." I replied, popping the 'p', "You wanna go outside and see what Dean's done to his beloved Baby?" He shrugged, and I pulled two beers from Bobby's fridge, "You wanna beer?"

"Ah, no. It's like, one in the day." He said with a raised brow.

I shrugged at him and twisted the cap off, "It's five o'clock somewhere." Taking a long pull of the beer, I almost groaned at the taste. Seven months of being sober had been too long, but for a good cause. At the dull ache that started in my chest, I winced and nodded to Sam, "C'mon."

Outside was a comfortable eighty degrees. I was rather pleased to be able to run around in a pair of shorts minus the fact that the waist band went directly across my incision. I kept tugging at it until I just tucked the front of my shirt in. I took another sip of my beer as Sam and I walked out to see Dean's legs protruding from underneath frame of the Impala. He had been making considerable time getting it back to tip-top shape, and compared to how it was a week ago, it was considerably less crunched up.

"Hey, you." I said loud enough for him to hear our approach.

Sam didn't wait for him to speak, "How's the car coming along?"

"Slow." Came his reply.

"Yeah?" Sam asked, "Need any help?" I arched my brow at him, wordlessly taking another swig of my beer as he shrugged to me when a loud clatter cause me to jump slightly. A piece of the exhaust fell to the ground, and Dean's body jerked to the side to avoid it.

"What, you under a hood? I'll pass." He said as Sam and I came closer to the car.

Sam threw me a frustrated glance, and I lifted my hands in defense. "Need anything else, then?"

Dean pushed himself out from under the car and stood, looking between us skeptically. When I offered him a beer, he took it with a brief nod and headed for the workbench, "Stop it, Sam."

"Stop what?" Dean threw him an irritated look after popping the cap off his drink.

"Stop asking if I need anything, stop asking if I'm okay." He took a quick drink and swallowed, "I'm okay. Really. I promise."

"Alright, Dean, it's just... We've been at Bobby's for over a week now and you haven't brought up Dad once." Dean's eyes drifted over to me, "Neither has Abigail."

"You know what? You're right." Sam blinked in astonishment, thinking he had gotten through to him. _Not so fast, Dr. Phil_. "Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance." I smirked at his cynicism, feeling his irritation bubble around in my stomach. I had to chug half of my bottle of beer down to force down a cynical laugh. Sam shoulda seen that one coming for him, or did he forget the sarcastic being that is Dean Matthew Winchester?

Dean smirked, looking from his brother to me and took a drink of his beer while Sam glowered at him, unimpressed. "Don't patronize me, Dean, Dad is dead. Megan's in the hospital and is gonna be there for a while," Dean and I narrowed our eyes at his words, "The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and the two of you are acting like nothing happened."

Dean shrugged, "What do you want me to say?'

"Say something, alright?" Sam pleaded, "Hell, say anything! You won't talk to me, hell, you won't even talk to Abs except when it's about Megan!" I gave Sam a sharp look at his comment, but pressed my lips together in a line out of guilt. I might've slipped that secret out on accident, seeing Dean turn his head a bit to look at me with a raised brow, and I returned his look with a guilty frown. "Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge?" He asked out of exasperation, "But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car!" I turned slightly, "And you, Abigail, all you do is rearrange Bobby's house from top to bottom and lift things you aren't supposed to!"

I furrowed my brows at him, "I have not."

"Then explain to Dean why I caught you rearranging that heavy table and chair set for the sixth time?" He challenged. I glanced to Dean, who was staring at me expectantly and I brought my bottle of beer to my lips, taking a long drink until it was empty. Sam had been on a roll for the past couple of days. It was easy to overlook him when he got into his little moods, but not when he was bringing Dean into it.

Dean was quiet for a moment, taking in Sam's words as well as sending me a warning look for over working myself once again. After a beat, he nodded slowly, "Revenge, huh?" He asked, taking the heat off of me.

Sam looked to Dean and nodded, "Yeah."

"Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is?" He asked him, and the cocky look in Sam's eyes disappeared, "Making heads or tails of any of Dad's research? Because I sure ain't, and I know Abs hasn't." Sam glanced to me for a second, "But you know, if we do finally find it - oh. No, wait, like you said. _The Colt's gone_. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it. We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay?"

"So you know the only thing I _can_ do?" He asked. Sam never moved to speak, and Dean pointed to the Impala, "Is I can work on the car." Sam lowered his gaze to the ground, chastised, but Dean wasn't finished, "Do you know what Abigail can do? Do everything she can to get her mind off of our daughter that is fighting for her life. The only thing we _can_ do is go to the hospital to see her and then come back here and sit with our thumbs up our asses. That's all there is for us right now." It seemed like Dean was on a roll as well, allowing some of whatever he had bottled up, out.

Finished talking, Dean finished off his beer, set the empty bottle on the workbench before he came over to me and kissed me gently on the lips before he crouched by the car again, getting back to work. He knelt down and began tugging on another section of the frame, then paused, looking directly to me, "If I hear or see you tugging around on something heavy again, we're going to have problems."

I snorted upon feeling his irritation multiplying, "Whatever you say."

He pointed a dirty finger at me, "I meant it, Abs. You've already popped four staples the day you woke up, then popped one the other day from moving Bobby's desk."

I waved him off dismissively, "I'm fine, 'sides, ya'll overreact on what I do anyways."

"It's _not_ overreacting, Abigail." He snapped, "We can't afford you getting hurt because of you being so damn stubborn."

"And that's a bad thing?" I questioned, arching my brow at him.

"It is when you become a liability on a job." Dean said, causing me to frown.

"Pot, this is kettle, you're black." I stated seeing him narrow his eyes at me, "And when the hell have we been on a _job_, Dean?" I asked, "The last time I checked, we were sittin' here with our thumbs up our asses."

Sam shifted, obviously done with our bickering, and cleared his throat. Dean returned to tugging on the frame, "Well, we've got something, alright?" He pulled out a cellphone that I didn't recognize and I looked at it, curious. "It's one of the reasons why I came by here to tell you. This is one of dad's old phones. Took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to this." Sam switched the phone to speaker and held it out to Dean. He stood up reluctantly and took the phone, leaning back against the Impala.

"_John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn, you know I can help you. Call me_." Said a woman's voice. I exchanged a look of confusion with Dean, trying to place that voice with a face; but I had seen so many.

"That message is four months old." Sam told us.

"Dad saved that chick's message for four months?" Dean asked, scoffing.

Sam nodded, "Yeah."

"Well, who's Ellen?" Dean asked, "Any mention of her in Dad's journal?'

I shrugged, toying with the rim of my empty bottle, "No, not that I could recollect."

"I ran a trace on her phone number and I got an address." Sam added, which piqued Dean's interest by the way he tilted his head, thinking. It had to have been the most interested he'd been in other than working on the Impala and seeing Megan.

He nodded, signaling that he was in, "Ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars." Sam looked almost relieved that Dean was pulling himself away from the Impala, however after he left Dean and I behind, we sat in silence for a beat. The both of us were uncomfortable, and it wasn't just from feeling what Dean felt.

"I guess I know who's stayin' behind," I said lightly.

"You know you can always go." He said.

My eyes met his with a disquieted look, "Well, if I go, who's gonna keep an eye on Meg?" I pointed out.

"I dunno." He said lightly, forming his lips in a thin line, "Bobby?"

"Dean, I can't ask Bobby to watch our two and a half week old daughter, it wouldn't be right." I told him.

Uncertainty rolled off of him in waves, not really knowing what to say next that wouldn't lead up to another fight. "You know…this past week has been hard on all of us, Abs." He finally said, "I was slowly readying myself for our kid to be here. I was fine that I was easing into this parenthood thing, but there was no way I was ready for this." Dean shook his head slowly, "Why do you think I haven't tried to find us a job? I can't bring myself to be away from Megan." I furrowed my brows at him, sensing fear crawling up his spine, "Truth is, Abs. I'm scared shitless about our daughter, and I know this has gotta be hell on you."

When I had said nothing in return, Dean sighed, picking up a shop towel to wipe the oil and grime off his hands. Once they were partially clean, he took a few steps toward me until we were standing at least a foot apart. He was close enough for me to smell gasoline mixed with the pungent odor of grease and oil, and finally the earthy scent of dirt and sweat. Underneath those troubled eyes of his, Dean cupped my face in his hands like I was made of porcelain, placing his forehead against mine with closed eyes, "You and me both know that the three of us need to stretch our legs or we're all going to tear our heads off."

"I know." I muttered.

"Everything's gonna be alright, Abigail. Megan's being taken care of by a good group of nurses, we can call her anytime we want—"

I frowned, "That's not the same, Dean." I said brokenly, "I want her here with us." I shook my head, "I don't want her hooked up to some machine, or gettin' poked on by needles like some science experiment, or alone and scared." Dean's face drew into a pained expression, pulling me against him in an embrace, despite the fact that he was covered in dirt and grease; I was wearing old clothes anyways. "I don't want her to think that we don't love her…I done everythin' right, Dean." I whispered.

His arms wound around me tightly, "I'm a hundred and fifty percent positive that she knows we love her, Abs, and I know you did. Don't you think for a second that you did something wrong." He murmured, pressing his lips against my temple, "Things just happen." I felt him hug me tighter when my shoulders started to shake from me crying, "Hey." Dean said gently, "Hey, hey, hey. Abs, it's not your fault. You did the best you could."

"No, Dean." I said, "I didn't. If I did, then Megan would still be in me and not in the NICU."

Despite my protesting, I knew he was getting just as aggravated over it as I was. I could see it in his eyes when I had taken a step back. Everything seemed like there was no room to breathe or think straight, let alone find solace within each other's arms. One minute it felt like I needed some form of contact, then the next, it felt like I was smothering. Comfort in others just didn't seem doable to me, and all I wanted to do was fight anyone who got in my path, and unfortunately, it had been both Sam and Dean.

After a moment of silence, all Dean did was nod and gently kissed me on the lips, holding it until we both calmed down. The kiss itself wasn't demanding. It was gentle, reassuring—like he was reminding himself that I was here. He did this often, especially after an argument or after working on the Impala for the better half of the day. "We'll go see her before we head out, okay?' He said, pulling away.

I pulled my bottom lip in, debating whether I should go or not.

* * *

_**NICU—Day**_

Sam was holding Megan close humming a lullaby as she squirmed letting out tiny cries of protest. She was hungry and I had just got back from pumping milk into a bottle. Sam and Dean looked up when I arrived holding four ounces of milk in a bottle, setting it on the counter for a minute as I located the cap and nipple for her.

"Abs, Megan's about to eat her hand if you don't hurry up," Dean deadpanned, though highly amused as she moved her head from side to side, popping her tiny hand into her mouth every moment or so. I rolled my eyes at him, fixing everything and handed it to Sam. He grinned when Megan took her bottle.

"So, have you two heard anything about when she'll get out?" Sam asked, looking up to Dean and I.

"Supposedly the day she was supposed to be due." I answered, shifting uncomfortably.

Sam blinked, "Three months? Wow…"

Dean looked utterly uncomfortable at that, "This is going to be a long wait, lemme tell ya." I nodded, bringing my thumb up to my mouth to chew on the skin around my nail, and stopped before I touched my lips. I rolled my eyes at myself. _Close, dumbass._ "Got any ideas how we're supposed to go on jobs while she's still here?"

Sam shrugged, checking the bottle for a second, "I dunno, one of us can stay behind every so often, uh, like, take turns. You and me can go on one or two while Abigail stays behind, then you and Abigail can go on a job or two while I stay behind, and then Abigail and I can go on one while you stay behind."

Dean scrunched his face. _Like he'd miss out on a hunt_. "That's actually not a bad idea." He mused, looking down at Meg, "Check her bottle again."

Sam furrowed his brows at Dean, "Dude, I just checked it."

"Doesn't matter, check it." He told him. I couldn't help but smile at how bossy Dean was, "I don't want her getting pissed cause you let her eat too much."

"She's not gonna get pissed, Dean." Sam said, taking the bottle away once again to look at it. Instead, Dean snatched it and held it up to his face, inspecting it carefully. Sam's eyes flickered over to me, giving me an amused look with a grin. I nodded a second, then saw Dean set it on a table and gestured for him to hand over Megan, and snickered.

"Alright, princess there needs burped, give her to me." He said impatiently.

Sam rolled his eyes, "I know how to burp a baby, Dean. Relax." With Megan still bundled up, he sat her forward, carefully placing his thumb and index finger on her chin so that she didn't come forward too much and started to pat her back as well as rubbing it to try and coax her to burp. Dean shifted in his seat, watching Sam like a hawk with impatience written all over his face. His brows were furrowed, eyes narrowed, and mouth pursed into a pout. Sam and I both knew it irritated Dean when he didn't get to burp her. Judging from his hands clenching and unclenching, he was about to blow a gasket.

"Okay, you did it long enough." Dean said quickly, "Give."

"Dude, will you hang on? I almost got her." Sam protested in a hushed voice.

_Those two are seriously acting like a bunch of kids_. I mused with a smug grin. Dean sat back, crossing his arms like a mad five year old, and let his legs slide forward until they were straight. Sam just grinned, chuckling as Megan let out a series of whines, making Dean squirm.

"Your dad's about to throw a fit," Sam told her, earning a withering look from Dean. Thankfully, I managed to get a picture on my cellphone of this moment or Dean would've really fell out.

"I am not." He grumped, "Just give me my kid."

Sam shook his head as he continued to pat her back until the teeniest of burps sounded and he smiled victoriously, "See?"

"Well good for you," Dean muttered, before he gaped when Sam leaned forward to get the bottle and popped it in her mouth, "Sam! I'm not playing—" He looked at me, "Abs, tell him to give me my kid!"

"Hey," I raised my hands in my defense, "This is between you two. I'm just enjoyin' the show." Dean's hands threw up, hitting his legs with a loud blow of air passing his lips out of protest. He was literally about to have a conniption fit. After a minute, Sam laughed, taking the bottle away from Megan. It didn't take a second that she started crying out for it.

"Here," Sam told him. Dean leaned forward and took her in his arms, minding the group of cords, and very carefully, cradled her in his arms. Sam handed him the bottle, watching as Dean popped it back into her mouth and smiled at her. If there was one thing that he loved more than anything, it was his daughter, Sam, and me. And the scene before me was evidence of just that.

* * *

_**Roadhouse Saloon**_

_**Central Nebraska**_

After a long and bitter drive to the address that Sam had traced, we made it to a place called the Roadhouse Saloon in the beat up minivan that Bobby had lent us. It was basically a piece of junk, and I seriously doubted that the thing could make it back to South Dakota without Dean having to fiddle with it. A loud, high-pitched squeal caused me to grimace after Dean threw it up in park and killed the engine with a similar grimace.

"This is humiliating." Dean claimed getting out of the van and eyed it with a sour look. I jerked back and forth on the sliding door, failing miserably by the way, and I tapped on the glass with an agitated growl. He furrowed his brows jerking on the handle a few times before it finally relented, letting me out. "I feel like a friggin' soccer mom!"

"You heard Bobby, it was the only one he had runnin'." Sam said.

I choked out an amused laugh, "Oh, don't let him get to you, Sammy," I said, "he's just poutin' cause it ain't his car." Sam smiled at me as I lifted my shirt up over my incision spot to see it an angry red in some places, and good lord it itched! I made a mental note to clean around it when I had the chance. Dean had been looking at it as well with assessing eyes, before they trailed up to me. "I know, I know. It's gonna get it cleaned."

"I didn't say anything." He quipped.

"Yeah, well, you were thinking it." Dean tilted his head in agreement as I let my shirt down and stood up on my tip toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He closed his eyes after I pulled back away from him, turning to look around the property with Sam. Even by Sam, I felt something was bothering him; scaring him all over again.

"Hello?" Sam called out, "Anybody here?"

I glanced back at him briefly before I could assess the Roadhouse. It appeared to be abandoned, but looks were deceiving at times. I took off my sunglasses, tucking them to the front of my shirt before I pulled my hair up into a bun that left a few strands free, and looked around us. The property was situated on graveled patch of land with old petrol bowsers left unattended and dusty from being outside. The architecture itself looked worn by the arid elements of Nebraska seeing that it was old weatherboard. It had a tin roof over the front porch that brought a small smile.

_I bet it sounded great during a rainstorm._ I thought, glancing from the tin roof to the dusty windows, peering in. It was dark inside, plus the glare from the sun didn't quite help my visibility.

"Hey." I looked over quickly, seeing Dean standing by the door, "You bring the, uh…"

I nodded, "Of course." I pulled out my lock pick kit, tossing it to him. Dean threw me a thankful smile, in return, I smiled back to him. It didn't take Dean long to pick the locks, and pushed the door open, nodding to Sam and I to follow him inside. I went in after Dean with Sam close behind, closing the door on our way in.

_Maybe getting away from everything was what we needed after all_, I mused, taking in the dark interior of the saloon. It was fairly quiet except for a fly buzzing somewhere, and I could smell stale beer and nicotine from the cigarettes. Judging from the light filtering in from the closed shades, the interior of the Roadhouse was far more comfortable than the outside. Paneling line the walls accompanied by hardwood floors and finished off with a wood topped bar. Classic design, but preferred in my opinion. A jukebox stood in the corner with tables and chairs scattered about.

_I like this place already_. I thought of the possibility—if we didn't get shot for B and E of course—that I could jam out to a song or two before heading back to Bobby's. Then I heard a light bulb go out, and that made me jump. Dean's arm wrapped around my middle in reassurance, despite the guarded look he gave me as we both pressed further to the back of the establishment. We spotted a man soundly passed out on a pool table. He was tall and lanky, decked out in the same attire that we wore—jeans, jackets, and plaid. A mullet was just the cherry on top, causing me to raise a brow to the poor soul unaware of our presence.

"Hey, buddy?" I said. No answer, except for a loud snore. "I'm guessin' that isn't Ellen." I commented, throwing a look over to Dean.

"Yeah," he agreed with a nod. Sam moved to the back of the room while Dean wandered down the steps towards the bar. We all let our guards down until I had heard a breath intake and spun around, seeing a pretty blonde holding a rifle to the back of Dean's head.

"Oh god, please let that be a rifle." Dean said.

"No, I'm just real happy to see you." She quipped, cocking the gun. "Don't move."

He raised his hands in the air, "Not moving, copy that."

I slowly approached her, pressing my weapon to the back of her head, "You should know somethin', sweetheart." She stiffened, "When you put a rifle on someone, you don't want to put it right against their back. Because it makes it real easy..."

Dean turned fluidly, grabbing the rifle from her and cocked it, "To do that." He finished with a cocky smirk, "and always stay aware of your surroundings." Without even hesitating, the girl punched him in the face, taking back the rifle with a smirk. I grimaced at the hit, watching Dean double over, clutching his nose. Then felt pain exploding in my stomach when the girl lashed out with the butt of the rifle, hitting me near my incision.

I fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes, instantly curling my lower half into me while I gripped my gun in my hand.

"Drop the gun." She snapped.

I shook my head, "You first, Cheap Shot." I wheezed out, lying my forehead against my forearm for a minute until she kicked it out of my hands. I didn't budge from my spot, "You okay, Dean?" I called out from the floor, curling my hand into a fist.

"I can't see. I can't even see." He muttered, "I think she broke my nose."

"You poor thing." The girl deadpanned, "You had it coming." Dean scrunched his face into a glare when he saw me on the ground. He made a move forward, only for the girl to shoulder her rifle at him, "You don't listen very well, do you?"

"Sam!" shouted Dean, "Need some help in here!"

The back door slammed open to reveal Sam, both hands on his head, entering the room slowly, "Sorry, Dean," he replied. "I can't right now. I'm a... little tied up." Sam nodded his head, indicating another woman who was behind him with a handgun pointed at his hand. I saw the hardened expression on the woman's face soften to a puzzled expression.

"Sam?" she asked, "Dean? Winchester?"

Sam and Dean glanced to each other, confused. "Yeah."

"Son of a bitch." She muttered, sounding miffed.

"Mom, you know these guys?" The younger woman asked.

"Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's boys." She replied, looking back over to me, "Which would make you Steven and Avery's girl, Abigail." She then lowered her gun, laughing. She let out a small, homey laugh—similar to what my mom used to have. Setting down her pistol, she introduced herself, "Hey, I'm Ellen. This is my daughter, Jo."

I lowered my head again as Jo lowered her rifle and Dean smiled tentatively at her.

"Hey." She said shortly. Dean took his hand off his nose to regard her.

"You're not gonna hit me again, are you?" He questioned, only half-joking.

"Don't take her gun." I replied in a huff of air. Dean frowned, realizing that I was still in the floor. He kneeled down, placing his hand on my shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Peachy…" I grimaced as I lifted my hand from over my stomach, seeing blood speckling my palm and shirt, "She got a cheap shot…" I muttered with a wry smile, nodding over to Jo. She shrugged, offering an apologetic smile. Dean didn't crack a smile, though he motioned her to help him get me to my feet. Grasping their arms, they pulled me up, only for me to lean against Dean, holding my stomach still with a pained wince.

"Next time, don't you let her hit me." He muttered in my ear, glancing to the blonde cautiously. I huffed out a laugh as he kept me close to him.

"Don't let her hit me in the gut." I countered, seeing his apologetic look. _It was better than his usual strong, silent, and observational looks._

"Ya'll take a seat," Ellen offered, gesturing to the bar, and looked over to Dean and me sympathetically, "I'll get you some ice to put on your nose, and I'll get something to patch you up, baby girl."

Dean casted a glance to me, bringing his hand up to his nose once more, before muttering, "Girl hits like Tyson." We climbed onto a set of stools—Sam on my left and Dean on my right—as I placed my hand on his shoulder. It was amusing how childlike he was being.

"Poor baby." I teased, trying to stave off the waves of pain and nausea. "Anything I can do to make it better?" I whispered in his ear. Dean's lips tipped into an amorous half-smile.

"What'd you have in mind?" he prompted.

I shrugged, "Your pick." Dean hummed in consideration.

"I'll get back to you on that one." He replied, kissing my temple lightly and scrunched his face to see if his nose was really broke. Dean still griped about his nose under his breath while Sam and I snickered. I had told him the play by play of our encounter with Jo, who was listening to us with a smug grin from the other side of the counter as she took out five empty glasses. Emerging from the back, Ellen approached Dean with a towel bunched up in her hand, while carrying a first aid kit.

She handed him the small towel filled with ice, "Here you go."

He tentatively placed the towel over his nose, wincing, "Thanks." He said, holding it to his nose while Ellen handed me the first aid kit. I peeled my shirt up to show my bleeding incision, earning grimaces from both Sam and Dean, as well as Ellen and Jo.

I ripped open an alcohol wipe, wincing when I gingerly started wiping away some of the dried blood away from my stomach. Dean picked up another packet, tearing it open as well. I hissed out a breath between my teeth when one of us went over an area that was bleeding.

"You called our dad, said you could help. Help with what?" Dean asked as he dabbed away some blood.

"Well, the demon, of course." My eyes flitted up to her, "I heard he was closing in on it." She replied, looking to each of us.

Dean paused, straightening up to look at her. "What, was there an article in the _Demon Hunters Quarterly_ that I missed?" Dean quipped out of annoyance, "I mean, who-who are you? How do you know about all this?" I placed my hand on his knee from under the bar trying to calm him down. It worked for the most part because he clenched his jaw and bowed his head a little, sending me a quiet look. I opened another packet while he sifted through the kit until he pulled out an iodine wipe.

I hated the smell of iodine, but it kept stuff clean. So when I placed the spent alcohol pad with the pile of others, Dean leaned forward and pulled the hem of my jeans down so that he didn't get anything on my clothes.

Ellen held up her hands, defensively. "Hey, I just run a saloon. But hunters have been known to pass through now and again." Ellen said, "Including your dad and parents a long time ago. "John, Steven, and Avery were like family once."

"How come I never heard them mention you before?" I asked jumping from the cold wipe touching my skin.

Ellen stepped back from the bar looking to me with a familiar apologetic look in her eyes, much like the one she had given Sam and Dean, "You'd have to ask John that." From beside me, I felt Dean's body stiffen at his father's name.

"So why exactly do we need your help?" Dean spoke gruffly, quickly changing the touchy subject of John back to questioning about the demon. His eyes were focused on my incision in a scowl as he cleaned it with a gentle touch, lips forming a tight, thin line. Dean reached up to grab some bandages and some surgical tape. He opened the pack with his teeth, pulling them out and situated them before he placed four strips of the tape to hold it in place. His lips curved into a half-smile, glancing up to me, and patted the side of my leg tenderly, "Good as new." I smiled softly at him in thanks despite the dull ache I felt from Dean.

"Don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if..." Ellen stopped short, eyes widening upon realization, "He didn't send you." She breathed out. I felt Dean's hand grip mine as tightly while my other hand reached for Sam's, taking his in mine as well. Neither of us spoke.

Sorrow and guilt crushed me like a heavy weight as Dean looked down at the bar. I fidgeted in my spot at the amount of pain I was feeling, while Sam and Dean's hands remained in mine. It felt multiplied while actually touching them. I felt their sad eyes on me, "He's alright…isn't he?" Ellen asked.

"No." I answered, "No, he isn't." I worked my jaw oddly, "It was the demon, we think."

"It, um, it just got him before he got it, I guess." Sam added with an attempt of a smile. It looked more like a grimace than anything.

Ellen regarded us sadly, "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. We're alright." Dean said, answering for all of us.

Ellen stared at Dean disbelievingly, "Really? I know how close you and your dad were."

"Really, lady, I'm fine." He told her brusquely.

I looked over at him calmly, too tired to really be curt with him, but alert enough to gently reinforce that he was being awfully rash, "Dean…" Frustrated hazel eyes stared back at me, then I heard him let out a breath of air.

"If you can help, we could use all the help we can get." Sam stepped in, giving Dean a warning glare.

"Well, we can't." Ellen said, exchanging a glance with Jo. I broke eye contact with Dean to look at Ellen with raised brows. _Well, that's a load of crap._ "But Ash will."

"Who's Ash?" Sam asked.

"Ash!" She called out and we all turned to see the man that had been passed out on the pool table jerking awake and sat up, flailing around.

"What? It closin' time?" He asked.

I raised my brows at the dork, looking back to Ellen, "That's Ash?"

Jo smiled, "He's a genius."

A brown folder is slapped down on the bar while Sam and Ash sat. Dean and I were standing; Dean was standing directly behind him while I was squirming around from my incision itching me. Jo stood on the other side of the bar pouring glasses of water.

"You've gotta be kidding me, this guy's no genius." Dean scoffed out. _Always the skeptic._ "He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie." Coming up behind Dean, I smacked him upside the head and he flinched, turning to look at me with an innocent, wide-eyed look. Jo pursed her lips at our interaction, and I sat down, leaving a stool open between Sam and I. "What was that for?"

"Guess." I deadpanned.

Ash laughed, sitting back on his stool, "I like you." He said, nodding appreciatively to Dean.

"Thanks." He muttered, rubbing the back of his head gingerly.

"Just give him a chance." Jo said, setting a glass of water in front of me. I smiled in thanks, taking a sip as Dean finally settled down between us with a shrug, opening the folder.

"Alright. This stuff's about a year's worth of our dad's work, so uh, let's see what you make of it." Dean challenged, sliding the folder over to Ash, "Abigail's got a pretty good understanding of things like this since her parents were demon hunters and all, but she's been stumped."

Ash pulled out a few papers and started rifling through them, and shook his head, "Come on." He scoffed out, "This crap ain't real. There ain't nobody can track a demon like this." Dean, Sam, and I held smug looks regarding pride towards John's work.

"Our dad could." I said, defending John's method, "And I could, up to a point."

"There are nonparametric statistical overviews, prospects and correlations, I mean…damn! They're signs, omens." That part I understood fairly easily, "Uh, if you can track 'em, you can track this demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms..." His voice trailed off, then leaned forward on the bar, staring me in the eyes with a serious expression, "You ever been struck by lightning? It ain't fun."

"Can you track it or not?" I asked him quietly, seeing a grin spread across his face.

Ash nodded, "Yeah, with this, I think so. But it's gonna take time, uh, give me..." Ash did the calculations in his head, bobbing it side to side a moment or two with closed eyes in a mental calculation, "Fifty one hours." He got up to leave, gathering everything, and walked toward the back room.

"Hey, man?" Dean said.

Ash stopped, looking to Dean with a grin, "Yeah."

"I, uh, I dig the haircut." He told him with a wink.

Ash's grin widened, "All business up front, party in the back." He said running his hand through his hair and flipped his mullet. I pursed my lips in amusement, then raised my brows in question when Jo passed by, sending Dean a flirty smile. Dean shrugged at me, brows raised as well.

He got up, placing his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it before heading to one of the empty tables. Just like that, he had gone back into the recesses of lone wolf hood. I frowned at that, feeling the gaping hole in my chest open back up. I just rolled my eyes and shook my head at him.

"Hey, Ellen, what is that?" Sam asked suddenly, spotting something from behind the bar.

Ellen turned, "It's a police scanner. We keep tabs on things, we..."

Sam shook his head, "No, no, no, no. The, um, the folder."

"Uh, I was gonna give this to a friend of mine. But take a look, if you want." Ellen said, picking up the folder and placed it in front of Sam. Curious, I got up from my stool and wandered over to him, seeing an array of newspaper clippings attached to the front with something written in red marker saying; _Couple Murdered. Child Left Alive. Medford, Wisconsin._

From beside the window, I saw Dean sit down near Jo as she wiped down tables and swept, "How did your mom get into this stuff, anyway?" I heard him ask.

Jo shrugged, "From my dad. He was a hunter." She replied, "He passed away."

"I'm sorry." Dean sympathized.

"It was a long time ago. I was just a kid. Sorry to hear about your dad." She said.

Dean nodded, glancing across the room to where I sat, "Yeah. So. I guess we've got fifty one hours to waste…you guys wouldn't happen to have rooms here, would you?" I arched a brow at him.

"What?" She asked.

"Just wondering if there was a place for us to crash," Dean said with a small shrug.

Jo smirked, "You know, I thought you were gonna toss me some cheap pickup line." Dean chuckled, clearly embarrassed and glanced over to meet my inquiring gaze. Usually, he'd be up and rearing to go for something like that, but today—all week—he'd been unusually reserved. Jo smirked at him, causing me to watch her closely. "Most hunters come through that door think they can get in my pants with some... pizza, a six pack, and side one of Zeppelin IV."

Dean smiled, "Well... what a bunch of scumbags."

Jo blinked, a little surprised at his response, "Not you?"

Dean shook his head with a little smirk, "I guess not."

I smiled knowingly to myself. He wasn't stupid. He knew what she was doing. I glanced down at my watch and frowned, "Hey, Sammy." Sam looked up from the papers, "I'm gonna call the hospital and check up on Meg."

"Okay." He replied, then looked over his shoulder to Dean, "Hey, Dean. Come here, check this out."

Dean looked over to the bar, "Yeah." I stood up, heading towards the door, meeting his curious gaze, "Where you going?"

I held up my phone, shaking it and saw him nod.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Roadhouse Saloon**_

I watched Abigail walk out of the bar pressing her phone up to her ear. She had to be going out of her mind by being away from Megan.

"Dean." Sam called out again, causing me to look at him.

"Dude, keep your panties on." I said getting up from the table to go look at what Sam had, "What you got?" I asked, coming up behind Sam and leaned over to look at the new set of documents that he and Abigail had been looking at.

"A few murders, not far from here, that Ellen caught wind of." Sam explained, "Looks to me like there might be a hunt."

"Yeah. So?" I asked vaguely. I wasn't interested in all reality.

"So, I told her we'd check it out." Sam explained.

I stared at him for a beat, "You realize that Abigail is riding along solely because I told her we'd come here and go straight back to Bobby's right?" My brother's face steeled.

"Dean. I get it, Abigail isn't fit to hunt." He said, stuffing papers back into the folder, "I mean considering how she's been running herself ragged, I can understand her not coming along." I joined him on the stool to his left.

"What do you mean?" I inquired him.

Sam scoffed, "Dude, are you seriously that blind? Abigail has been running on fumes. She hasn't been to sleep in I don't know, two or three days?" My brows rose at his observation, "Maybe if you'd stop shoving your head under your car every once in a while, you could see what she's been doing to herself."

I ignored his comment about Baby, "And you got all of this how?"

"Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out," Sam quipped, "I've tried to talk to her, but I get the same response every time—"

"I'm fine." I finished in a high-pitched voice imitating Abs, seeing Sam's lips twitch out of dry humor, "Yeah, you can't tell she's been around us." I said sarcastically.

"This isn't funny, Dean." He chastised.

"I wasn't being funny." I countered.

Sam frowned, "Abigail's gonna end up being in worse shape that what she's already in."

"You don't think I know that?" Sam narrowed his eyes at me for a beat, "Aside from you telling me, that is." I hung my head and shook it, "I don't know whether she'll want to go or want to head back to Bobby's." Sam suddenly cleared his throat. I turned my head to look at him with furrowed brows. He motioned his head behind me.

"Go where?" Abigail's voice asked from behind. I twisted around to see Abigail looking at us with a skeptical expression.

"Oh, uh, how's, uh, how's Megan?" I asked her, immediately changing the subject. Abigail sidled in beside me, lifting her shoulders in a silent shrug. There was something about her posture…it was rigid-like. Abigail rubbed her face roughly with her hands and picked up her glass of water that she'd been nursing, allowing me to get a good look at her, and as much as it pained me, Sam was right.

Abigail looked awful. Black bags hung under her eyes seemingly contrasting against her ashen complexion. The left side of her face was slowly evening out with the rest of her skin due to the bruises healing up. Several places on her face had already healed, leaving light pink scars behind with freshly healed skin, and the only thing that was still truly healing was the gash she had on her forehead. I continued to watch her closely, seeing her eyes stay closed a second longer than usual became fairly evident that she was exhausted.

"She's doing, uh, fine." Abigail finally replied. I pressed my lips together to form a straight line upon hearing her voice slur, "Said that she's gained about two ounces today makin' her about two pounds _and_ three ounces now? And they put her on some, uh…some—" She let out an irritated breath, "If I could think straight, I swear…" She muttered, running her hand through her hair, "twenty-four calorie fortifiers…supposed to help her gain weight fairly quick."

That was good news on my daughter's behalf, however on Abigail's, she couldn't think straight. I glanced to Sam with a tight-lipped expression and saw a mutual look.. Abigail was definitely running on fumes. _How could I be so blind_? "You look like you need some sleep, Abs."

Turning tired eyes on me, she smiled forcibly, and waved her hand, "I'm fine, Dean. So, where are we goin'?"

"Uh, Sam found a case." Sam knitted his brows together in a withering glare.

Abigail's eyes lit up, "Oh? So, we're goin' to check out that series of murders up in Wisconsin."

I nodded, "Yeah, just to see if it's something worth our time." I said dismissively, "It probably isn't, though." I looked over at Sam, gesturing for him to help me out.

"Oh. Oh, yeah, definitely." Sam added with a short nod of his head, "You probably aren't interested in something like that."

Abigail stared at us for a beat, "We've looked into a lot less, guys."

I nodded, "You're absolutely right. We have—" Sam kicked my shin roughly and I grunted out, shooting my brother a glare. This obviously wasn't working out like I had hoped, "But, uh, maybe you should…" I tilted my head at her, "you know…sit this one out."

Abigail considered it for a moment before she stared at me with surly demeanor, "And people in hell want ice water, Dean."

"What?"

Her eyes bored into mine unwavering, "I thought we were statin' things that were never gonna happen." She deadpanned.

I glanced to Sam, taken aback at how quickly she was able to make a comeback, "Abs—"

"I heard you and Sammy talkin' about me when I walked back in." She accused, "What the hell?" Sam had hung his head, shame-faced like a little kid. I frowned at her guiltily feeling like I had betrayed her somehow.

"Abigail, we can explain." Sam said, giving her the puppy look. It had no effect on her whatsoever.

"No." She said firmly, "I told you two I was fine, and I meant it."

"We know how you are, Abs. You're not fine." I replied, agitated.

Abigail bristled at my words, "Are you callin' me a liar?"

I pursed my lips at her, "I ain't callin' you a truther." My shoulders hefted up in a shrug, "You may as well own up."

As stubborn as Abigail is, she rose to her feet with a glare that held hidden wrathful undertone. "I can't believe you two." Turning on her heels, she walked straight out of the Roadhouse, allowing the door to close loudly. I blew out an irritated sigh. _Here we go again._ I thought, knowing that she wasn't going to go far. It wasn't like she was just going to hotwire some vehicle and cut out. There wasn't any place to go and no vehicles—other than the junker van Bobby let us borrow—to hotwire.

"Well, that went smoothly." I said to my brother, voice thick with sarcasm.

Sam gave me a pinched look, "I'll go talk to her." He made a move to stand up, only for me to grab his arm. With knit brows, I could see that he was confused and concerned about her. It wasn't every day that she was pissed at him.

_Of course she wouldn't stay pissed at him long. They're inseparable_. That irritated me. "No, Sam. I will." I stood up, patting him on the shoulder twice in reassurance. Sam nodded, appearing to be a little surprised that I was going out there, sitting back down on his stool, "Just be ready to leave in five minutes." Making my way out of the establishment, I passed Jo—who gave me a curious look.

"Everything okay?" Jo asked.

"Yeah," I stated before I opened the door, and felt the warm evening breeze tickle at my nose. Annoyed with that, I scrubbed at my face with my hand. There was an unsettling feeling that sat in my gut just _knowing_ that there was a fight brewing once I found Abigail. It had always been like that.

I found her sitting at the back of the van with a dark scowl on her face, "You have a lotta nerve comin' out here." She muttered bitterly, acknowledging that I was there.

Remaining standing, my shoulders lifted as I took my hands out of my pockets, "Yeah, well, someone needed to come out here and talk some kind of sense into you." I quipped, folding my arms across my chest.

Abigail scoffed in sarcasm, "Thanks for the offer, but I'm—"

"_Fine_. Yeah, I heard that four times now." I stated catching her dirty looks and ignored them, "You're getting pissed off for no reason, Abs. Sam and I have a good reason to not let you go with us."

She let out a breathy laugh, "What the fuck ever, Dean."

"Stop being a goddamn princess, Abigail." My voice rose along with my temper, "Sam and I are just concerned about you."

Abigail rolled her eyes at me, "_Concerned_?" She questioned with a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. I nodded my head, "Concerned…that's funny, 'cause the only concern I've seen _you_ show this past week is for the Impala."

"Oh, don't start." I said in a clipped tone.

"How 'bout this? Instead of havin' this pointless argument, why don't you and Sam go on ahead and leave me behind since I'm such a goddamned _burden_ to the two of you." She quipped, glaring at me with pursed lips.

"I never once said that to you," I snapped, growing angry at her accusations.

"Yeah. Well, you implied that I was back at Bobby's." Abigail said coolly, earning a cynical scoff to pass through my lips, and rolled my eyes at her. She was being a complete child!

"I said you were a _liability_, not a burden—big difference, sweetheart!" My voice raised further until it was borderline yelling.

Abigail shook her head at me watching what I did closely, and smirked, "Not to me there isn't."

"Abs, have you taken a look at yourself? When was the last time you actually slept?" Her eyes went to the ground as she worked her jaw oddly out of anger and kicked out her legs with some momentum, "Sam told me that it's been two or three _days_ since the last time you actually got some sleep."

Her head shot up, face twisting in anger. "Like you care!" She exclaimed, "You wouldn't have even known if he hadn't told you!"

Anger boiled in my veins. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"You haven't given a rat's ass what Sam and I have done." She said pointedly, "From sun up to sundown you stay out of the house to avoid us—to avoid me," Her hand tapped her chest roughly, "—while you work on the car! The only time I've seen you acknowledge our existence is when we're at the NICU. Other than that, you're oblivious, like, we're not even there!"

"I haven't avoided you or Sam!" Abigail rolled her eyes at me, jumping to her feet and walked by me, shouldering past me roughly, and I turned with her, "The car needs fixed, and I fully intend on getting her back on the road, no matter the cost!" I argued. This was going nowhere, and Abigail was far from being calmed down. I noticed the red tone on her neck and chest knowing good and well that she was royally pissed off, and like a flick of a switch, her entire demeanor changed into sheer exhaustion. Her walls finally came crashing down while mine held up, firm and unyielding.

I saw how tired she truly was. She looked lost—scared, even—as she sucked in part of her cheek, chewing on it for a beat. "Does it ever occur that you're not the only one missin' Dad?" She asked softly, "He wasn't just yours and Sam's dad; he was mine too."

I scoffed, "Is this what this is about? Dad?" I questioned, "Well, here's a newsflash for you. I'm _fine_. Really. Now drop it and stop acting like a freaking two year old." In all honesty, I wasn't fine. I was nowhere near being fine.

Abigail let out another scoff, and this time it was soft and weary, "_Fine_." She said simply, flicking her hands out and slapped her thighs, "You're lyin', Dean, and I know that you are." Her chest heaved with the next breath she took, "And you know what? You're right." Her voice grew quieter…wearier as the seconds passed, "Dad's dead, and I—" She blew out a breath, "—and I know that, Dean. Just like my parents. Just like my brother and sisters." I saw her place a shaking hand over her mouth, bringing it down in a swift motion as she looked to the ground fighting off the tears that threatened to come out. "All I'm sayin' is that you can lie to yourself all you want, Dean. You can lie to Sammy all you want, and make him believe that you're all fine and dandy, but you can't lie to me. Just…talk to me. _Please_."

After a minute of heavy silence, her eyes bored into mine with a knowing look that had become very unsettling. "You're only holdin' yourself with pins and needles for the very same reasons I am, and lemme tell you somethin'—that's not gonna hold up for long." I rolled my eyes up to the evening sky, seeing several hues of purples, reds, and oranges splash across the horizon. Anything to avoid the truth coming from her mouth. "When they bust loose, Dean—so help me they will—don't you come to me, cause you already look at me like I'm some dying animal." I hung my head with a clenched jaw. It felt like I had gotten punched in the gut, but the girl knew me better than I knew myself sometimes.

_If she only knew what we went through._ I brought my hand up to scrub any sign of emotion from my face, peering up to her imploring eyes. She wanted answers that I couldn't find the words to. There was none. Instead, like a dumbass, the only thing that vomited out was, "Are you done?"

There was a painful clench in my chest when a hurt look took hold in her eyes. I couldn't hardly believe I said that to her. With a clenched jaw, she merely nodded with a pained expression residing upon her face. I wanted this to be different. I mean, for crying out loud, we had a daughter together, and for me to cast her away like I just did—

"Yeah…I'm done." She muttered, letting a sliver of pink dart out from her mouth to moisten her lips. I mirrored it with my own when the doors to the Roadhouse opened.

"Is everything okay out here?" It was Ellen. "Your brother and I heard ya'll yelling and arguing, figured I'd come out and check up on you two."

Abigail's fortress instantly went back up and she nodded to the older woman, "Yeah, it's fine. He and Sam was just leavin'." Ellen glanced from her to me quickly, and folded her arms. I looked away guiltily.

"Well, you're more than welcome to stay here while they're gone." Ellen offered.

"I appreciate it," Abigail told her softly, "But…there wouldn't be any way for me to find a ride someplace to head back to South Dakota, would you? I'd like to get back to the NICU." My heart sank. As tired as she was, she didn't need to be driving six hours back. I looked to Ellen, hoping that she could see how incapacitated she was.

With an understanding smile, Ellen shook her head, "Not till in the morning, baby girl. Everything's closed for the night." Abigail's face fell, pursing her lips, and nodded. "Go on inside. I'll find you something to eat. You look like you're half-starved." Without another word, Abigail walked by me without another glance, disappearing into the Roadhouse. I deserved that. So I stood there in the parking lot, clenching my jaw out of spite that she had hit the nail on the head, once again.

Ellen stared at me for a long while causing me to shift uncomfortably, "It's not really any of my business, but Sam told me everything that's happened, and I can't say I don't blame that you and him are concerned for her. Especially with your little girl in the hospital—"

"Yeah. You're right. It's not any of your business." Ellen's eyes narrowed at me, "But don't think for a second that I don't care about Abigail."

"Well it looks like you two need some time apart." She stated, "And I believe that it's a good time to leave." As if on cue, Sam came out looking in at the Roadhouse, then back out to me genuinely confused. Licking my lips, I glanced between him and her, finally nodding in agreement.

"Let's go, Sam." I muttered, digging into my jacket pocket, pulling out the keys to the minivan. This job was definitely going to be different without her.

* * *

**Next up-Everybody Loves a Clown (Part Two)!**

**I seriously had no intention on making this longer than usual, but I just get writing and writing and writing until I wound up with almost _50 pages!_ So, I decided to half it out into two parts so it didn't bore you guys to death. I should have Part Two out in the next day or so. Just needing to add some finishing touches. Who knows? It may even be out later today!**

**I'd love to thank _Ladysunshine6_ for lending some help with writing a few scenes and adding in a few things, as well as giving suggestion as to what I wrote. So not all credit is going to me, but to her as well!**

**I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise. ****I would absolutely die if fanfiction .net took this down for my stupidity.**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! If this chapter came out a little jumpy between POVs or awkward in some places, let me know so I can get to it as quickly as possible! Let me know how I'm doing!**

* * *

**The song for this chapter: _Pain Redefined_ by Disturbed.**

* * *

**curlystruggle\- I think everyone was expecting a little boy! I figured I would change it up for a surprise baby! Like Abigail said in _Bad Company_, Dean's gonna keep the entire male population away for the next thirty years!**

**Thegirlwhowaited24601- Thank you! I'm glad to know that you're enjoying it!**

**angelicedg- I know it! I was tearing up when I wrote some of the scenes, but the kicker was when Abigail lost it. _Ladysunshine6 _is a huge help and helped write that scene!**

**grapejuice101- I think everyone's glad the baby is safe! This is definitely going to be a game changer with a baby on board!**

**SassyGrl23- When I read it the first time, I teared up. **

**ebonywarrior85- Thank you! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**giddyfan- You're very welcome! It didn't feel right doing something like that, and I have to agree with a lot of readers-killing off a baby was too common. To me, this just opens doors and brings on new challenges! **

**sarahmichellegellarfan1- Yes, ma'am! Almost every fanfic that contains an OC having a baby girl (or boy), they always end up naming her/him Mary or John. I wanted to step away from the usual and do something different. Megan means 'strong and capable' while her middle name, _Daniella_, is the feminized version of Daniel-who in the Old Testament was in that ten of lions.**

**RebornRose1992- Thank you so much!**

**HellishFury- No, thank YOU. Your review was what I needed to read! This lets me know I'm doing something right! At least that rollercoaster is over with, right? **

**deangirlforever85- Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**wideawakepastmidnight- Thank you so much! Writing out those chapters offered me _so many_ possibilities. Actually, Megan was a surprise! I was going for a boy and name him either Cody Bryant or Ajax Colt, but I changed my mind I think after _Route 666 _or earlier than that. I can't really remember where it was! haha. Glad you like it! (:**


	5. Everybody Loves a Clown (Part Two)

_Now and again we try_

_To just stay alive_

_Maybe we'll turn it all around_

_'Cause it's not too late_

_It's never too late_

_The world we knew_

_Won't come back_

_The time we've lost_

_Can't get back_

_The life we had_

_Won't be ours again_

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Highway—Night**_

It was dark, and pouring the rain. As Abigail said, _it was coming down like a cow pissing on a flat rock_. The first couple of hours on the road had been awkward and silent. Sam took his usual spot in the front seat while I stared ahead at the road engrossed in my thoughts. Abigail needed me, and I hadn't been there for her or for Sam. I didn't feel like I was there, at least, not all of me. I felt empty, scared about several things, and I didn't have the gall to level with her.

At some point, Sam had dug around the file that he got off Ellen, looking at several papers with a flashlight. I might've caught bits and pieces of what he said. From the research, it sounded interesting—right up our alley, "You've gotta be kidding me." I said with a scoff, "A killer clown?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah. He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents." His face twisted into a disgusted look, "Ripped them to pieces, actually." He added, showing me a photo of one of the victims' parents.

I grimaced, "And this family was at some carnival that night?"

"Right, right. The, uh, Cooper Carnivals." Sam replied, scanning over a document.

"So how do you know we're not dealing with some psycho carnie in a clown suit?" I asked.

"Well, the cops have no viable leads, and all the employees were tearing down shop. Alibis all around." Sam looked over at me, "Plus this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course."

I smirked, "Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam. Why did it have to be _clowns_?"

Sam groaned, "Oh, give me a break."

"You didn't think I'd remember, did you?" I laughed out, "I mean, come on, you still bust out crying whenever you see Ronald McDonald on the television."

Sam scoffed, "Well, at least I'm not afraid of flying, or spiders." My laughter ceased at the mention of Abigail's fear of spiders.

I pursed my lips at him, "Planes crash!" I defended, "and spiders _can_ kill!"

"And apparently clowns kill!" Sam smirked making his defense. We fell silent again. I found myself glancing up into the rearview mirror to see an empty backseat. Abigail wasn't there. Her laughter never joined ours, or making some smartass remark to Sam's little fear of clowns—she practically saved him every time he was at Plucky's.

Sam sensed what I was thinking, throwing a cautious glance over his shoulder as well, "Dude, call her."

I blinked, "What?"

"Call Abigail." He urged.

I snorted, "Yeah. I'm gonna jump right on that."

"I wonder what she's doing…" Sam sighed out, leaning his head against the headrest.

"Probably wishing I would fall over dead." I quipped, meeting his infamous bitchface. I shrugged at him dismissively, "Besides, she wouldn't answer me if I tried."

"Not if it was about Megan." My brother said.

I cleared my throat, "So, these types of murders, they ever happen before?" I asked, getting back to the case.

Sam rolled his eyes and turned on the flashlight to look down at a page, "Uh, according to the file, 1981, the Bunker Brothers Circus, same M.O. It happened three times, three different locales."

"It's weird, though, I'm mean if it is a spirit it's usually bound to a specific locale, you know, a house, or a town." I pointed out.

"So how's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?" Sam asked.

I shrugged, "Cursed object, maybe. Spirit attaches itself to something and the, uh, carnival carries it around with them."

"Great." Sam muttered sarcastically, "Paranormal scavenger hunt."

"Well, this case was your idea." I said, glancing to him for a moment, "By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job."

Sam shrugged defensively, "So?"

"It's just... not like you, that's all." I said, "I thought you were hell-bent for leather on the demon hunt."

"I don't know," He said, "I feel bad that we had to leave Abigail behind…"

_Oh, you just don't know, Sammy._ I thought with a guarded expression.

"I just think, this job—it's what we needed besides sitting on our asses and worrying about Megan." I arched my brow at him, "I mean, she's doing better—a lot better." He added quickly, "But, it's not like she's gonna get out as small as she is. Besides," Sam shrugged, "Dad would have wanted us to do it." I arched my brow at him.

"What _Dad _would have wanted?" I quipped. _If Dad was here, then Abigail would've been here and Megan would still be _in_ Abigail._

Sam regarded me for a moment, "Yeah. So?"

I shook my head, "Nothin'."

* * *

_**Sam's Point of View**_

_**Cooper's Carnival-Day**_

Dean drove through the night until early morning when we pulled into the parking lot outside the carnival. It was mildly amusing each time we parked to see my brother grimace with annoyance at the van's loud squeal. We leaned forward to see the scene before us.

"Huh. Check it out. Five-oh." He said thoughtfully. There were a couple of detectives speaking to some of the carnies that were standing around.

"You just uh, stay put and I'll see what I can find out about these murders." He said, patting my shoulder, "Be sure to get an autograph from Bozo for me while I'm gone."

I rolled my eyes at him, "Eat me." Dean grinned at me as he fiddled with the door a moment, letting out an irritated growl when it finally opened, and he fell forward a second. I snickered at him when he straightened up outside the van, "Hey. Don't fall." Dean scrunched his face at me, raising his middle finger to me and I laughed.

I got out shortly after, pulling out my phone, and scrolled through my contacts until I landed on Abigail's number. Glancing up, I saw Dean conversing with the two agents before hitting dial.

"C'mon…c'mon." I breathed out when it started ringing.

"_This is Abigail's _other,_ other phone. You know what to do_." Her voicemail said and I sighed, hanging up. _That was about useful._ Then I dialed Ellen's number.

I pursed my lips, waiting as it began to ring. I needed to know how Abigail was doing.

"_Roadhouse Saloon,_" It was Ellen.

"Ellen. Hey, it's Sam…Winchester." I said.

"_Sam_? _You find anything out yet about those murders?_" She asked.

I glanced around, "Ah, no. Not yet. Dean's talking to a couple feds right now…How's Abigail?"

Ellen let out a sigh, "_I promised her I wouldn't breathe a word to you boys—she was pretty upset last night_."

I nodded, "Yeah, I could tell. Just, uh, just tell her I called to check up on her."

"_Well, I would, but you see, she cut and run sometime late last night. She's not here. I'd say she's on her way back to South Dakota to see her baby._" I furrowed my brows at that, growing silent. _This wasn't good_. "_Sam?"_

"Uh, yeah. I'm still here." I replied, "Thanks for letting me know._"_

"_No problem, ya'll take care._" She said, "_And Sam?_"

"Yeah, Ellen?" I asked.

"_If you see Abigail, let me know she's alright._"

"Of course." I said before she hung up. I closed the phone. _How the hell am I supposed to tell Dean this?_ I thought, stuffing it in my pocket, and looked up to see a three foot tall woman dressed in a clown outfit pass by. I felt my heart and breathing seize up after a pang of fear coursed through me. I couldn't take my eyes off of her, feeling utterly nervous. When she realized that I had been staring, she paused to stare back, causing me to fidget in my spot nervously. After a moment, she started back walking, and smirked.

_That's not embarrassing at all_. I thought, watching her go.

"Did you get her number?" Dean's voice asked, approaching me with a smug look.

I narrowed my eyes at him in a scowl, "More murders?"

Dean looked after the tiny clown with a smirk, "Two more last night." He shook his head, "Apparently they were ripped to shred. And they had a little boy with them..."

I grimaced, "Who fingered a clown." Dean furrowed his brows at me with a weird look, "What?"

"Yeah, a clown, who apparently vanished into thin air." He said, looking back to the carnival.

"Dean, you know, looking for a cursed object is like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles. They could be anything." I muttered, glancing around as well, "Abigail could figure this out in no time."

Dean rolled his eyes at me, seeming uncomfortable when I brought her up. "Yeah. Well, she's not here, is she?" He said dryly, "If there is a cursed object, then it's bound to give off EMF, so we'll just have to go old school and scan everything."

I glowered at him for a beat, "Oh, good, that's nice and... _inconspicuous_." Sarcasm was laced into every word I spoke until I realized that Dean was staring at something.

"I guess we'll just have to blend in." Dean said, looking back to me from seeing a _Help Wanted_ poster.

_Joy._ I mused in my head as we headed toward a nearby tent. Inside, we saw a man throwing knives at a target; each knife landing near but not quite on bulls-eye.

"Excuse me, we're looking for a Mr. Cooper, have you seen him around?" Dean asked and his smile dropped when the man turned, wearing a pair of too-dark sunglasses—similar to that faith healer's. I swallowed.

"What is that, some kind of joke?" The man snapped, pulling off his sunglasses to reveal pale blue irises—he was blind.

"Oh God. I'm—I'm sorry." Dean stuttered out as he stumbled over his words.

"You think I wouldn't give my eyeteeth to see Mr. Cooper? Or a sunset, or anything at all?" The old man continued to rant causing Dean to look back at me, alarmed.

"Wanna give me a little help here?" He muttered.

I smirked, "Not really."

"Hey Barry," a man cut in, "is there a problem?" Dean turned, then looked down to see an extremely short man in a red cape.

"Yeah, this guy hates blind people." The man informed him.

Dean turned back around fumbling over his own words, "No, I don't, I..."

"Hey buddy, what's your problem?" The dwarf demanded, shaking his staff at Dean threateningly.

"Nothing, it's just a little misunderstanding—" He started.

"_Little_?! You son of a bitch!" I pursed my lips upon seeing Dean in absolute shock at the animosity he was receiving.

"No, no, no! I'm just—could somebody tell me where Mr. Cooper is? Please?" Dean finished trying to hold off to their attack. I couldn't help but laugh at how uncomfortable it was for him already. His face sagged in relief when they led us to Cooper's tent.

"You boys picked a hell of a time to join up." Mr. Cooper greeted us, offering two chairs in front of his desk, "Take a seat." Dean and I looked to the available chairs—one is normal and the other…was pink and had a giant clown face on it. I moved toward the normal chair, however, Dean beat me to it, grinning up at me. I glared at him and glanced to the clown chair, fidgeting a little before I sat gingerly in the chair. "We've got all kinds of local trouble."

"What do you mean?" Dean questioned.

"Oh, a couple of folks got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here first." He explained, "So, you two ever worked the circuit before?"

I nodded, "Yes sir, last year through Texas and Arkansas."

"Doing what? Ride jockies? Butcher? ANS men?" Mr. Cooper questioned, staring at me intently.

I squirmed under his gaze, laughing nervously, "Yeah, it's, uh, little bit of everything, I guess."

"You two have never worked a show in your lives before, have you?" He deadpanned.

"Nope." Dean admitted, shamelessly, "But we really need the work. Oh, and uh, Sam here's got a thing for the bearded lady." Dean started to laugh until he met my withering gaze, and stopped.

Mr. Cooper pointed to a picture that hung on the wall, "You see that picture? That's my daddy."

We looked to the picture. It was uncanny at how close they looked, a little too close in my opinion. "You look just like him." I said.

"He was in the business. Ran a freak show. Till they outlawed them—most places. Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified." Mr. Cooper added, "So most of the performers went from honest work to rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress. I guess." He shrugged, "You see, this place, it's a refuge for outcasts. Always has been. For folks that don't fit in nowhere else. But you two? You should go to school. Find a couple of girls. Have two point five kids. Live regular."

Despite the scoff that my brother let out, I couldn't help but notice him shift in his seat at that. He looked guilty and uncomfortable, getting ready to open his mouth.

I leaned forward, "Sir? We don't want to go to school. And we don't want regular. We want this." Mr. Cooper simply nodded his head.

Dean stared at me for a moment as we left his tent, "Huh."

"What?" I asked.

"That whole, uh, I don't want to go back to school thing." He said, "Were you just saying that to Cooper or were you, you know, saying it?" I fell silent, considering what I had just said, "Sam?"

I shrugged at him, "I don't know." I admitted. Everything was difficult. I mean, I wanted to go back to school, have a life and a family, but then again…there was Dean and Abigail—the family business and my niece.

Dean blinked before his face scrunched in disbelief, "You don't know?" He deadpanned, "I thought that once the demon was dead and the fat lady sings that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State."

"I'm having second thoughts." I admitted.

"Really?" His voice had an undertone of excitement.

"Yeah. I think." I said, "Dad would have wanted me to stick with the job."

Dean's face dropped into an expression of frustration and annoyance, "Since when do you give a damn what Dad wanted? You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam."

I furrowed my brows at him, "Since he died, okay? Do you have a problem with that?"

Dean scoffed, "Naw, I don't have a problem at all. It'll be Abigail that'll have the coronary when you tell her."

My eyes drifted to the tops of the tents that surrounded us, "Yeah. Well, I don't think it's gonna matter what she thinks." Dean rose his brows at me, imploring. Luckily, I caught myself before I had let it slip out that Abigail had left, and I shook my head, "Never mind." I muttered.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**NICU—Day**_

My days had started to blur together. It was a wonder how I managed to get back to the hospital without wrecking the motorcycle I jacked from a different bar. Nothing against Ellen and Jo's hospitality, I just needed to get back to my daughter. I had been away from her too long.

I spent three minutes washing my hands in near scalding water, half-tempted to just crawl in the enormous sink and just soak until there was nothing left of me. What I really needed was something to wake me up. At this point, it didn't matter to me what it was. It could've been a shower, a large cup of coffee, some kind of energy drink, hell…an upper.

I scrubbed my face roughly to wake me up. _Hell no_. _Not again._ I wasn't about to go down that road again. I had too much to lose. A yawn wracked through me when I came into Megan's room, seeing Ashley in there with her. She smiled at me like she always done.

"Hi Abigail." She greeted as I walked in.

I smiled tiredly, "Hey. How's she been?"

Ashley looked over to the incubator, "She's doing real good—lost an ounce last night, but I think she's gonna make up for it today. You've got a hungry little girl." I moved from the door in a sluggish manner to peer into the incubator at my daughter, smiling at her. She had managed to wiggle her blanket loose, poking a tiny foot out of it as she kicked her legs out simultaneously. Her eyes were open a smidge, peering out from behind her lids. To be a two week old micro-preemie, she was pretty alert about her surroundings. _Much like her dad._ I frowned as the little blurb popped into my mind, then felt a pang of guilt; only to shove it down for the moment.

I wasn't going to wallow in my misery around my daughter. She didn't deserve it. I also shoved down the constant nagging of sleep, forcing myself to gain my bearings so that I could spend _some_ time with her. Fourteen hours without seeing Megan seemed like a lifetime, and needless to say, my boobs were feeling it. Sitting in the recliner, I sat back with Megan's tiny form in my arms, skin to skin while she nursed in a state of content. The feelings I was getting from her were of contentment and love, therefore I was able to relax into the chair.

In her room, there were several photos and little things that each of us had brought, leaving for her to always know that apart of us was here with her. I left my mother's rosary hanging beside the whiteboard with an image of Dean and I holding Megan in our hands; her head and upper body in his, while I held her butt and legs. She was so tiny in our hands.

There was another image of Sam holding Megan…it had been the first time that he ever got to hold her and his face was priceless. Dean practically forced him to hold her and I managed to get the picture at the right time. His expression was of sheer bewilderment, fear, and love mashed up into one emotion. Definitely one of the best photos of Sam I had.

And finally, there was a photograph of just Dean and Megan. His eyes were bright and child-like, filled with excitement. There was tenderness and love in his gaze, grinning from ear to ear as ran his finger along her tiny foot. It was very evident that he loved her with his heart and soul.

Glancing to the clock, I realized that five minutes had passed by while I was engrossed in my thoughts. I gently took my daughter from my breast, hearing her whimpers of protest and laughed, seeing a fine sheen of milk coat her chin. I leaned forward taking the edge of her blanket and dabbed away her little mess, "You're definitely a child of Dean Winchester." I told her softly after she let out another whimper. I sat her forward, securing her in my hands and patted her back a few times.

"I know you don't exactly understand me right now but you will in time," I murmured, rubbing up and down her tiny back, "Just know that your daddy and I love you very much, and you should know that him and me don't always get along…that we're gonna end up fightin' over somethin'. Always know that it will _never_ be because of you or anythin' of the sorts. That's just somethin' that grown-ups do."

When she let out a satisfying burp, I grinned at her tiredly, brushing my fingertips against the side of her face as I let her snuggle back up against my breast, "You have more of your daddy than you do of me, little woman. Always ready to eat, hates somethin' coverin' your feet when you sleep, and you've always got one eye open." Megan's hands curled up under her while I watched her nurse quietly, "I just—I just wished I coulda done somethin' about keepin' you in my belly a little longer…that's all."

I looked up to the ceiling to avoid a fresh batch of tears from coming out, "Please know that I did the best I could. Your mommy's had some problems growin' up, but she's doin' the best she can to make it better for you." I took the back of my hand to wipe away a stray tear, "I can't help but feel guilty about everythin'. Your papaw John…Lord, he loved you. He was _so_ proud of you, Megan." I took a deep, calm breath to control myself, "I'm gonna do my best to keep you out of this life—let you grow up like a kid should."

It wasn't long that Megan had passed out, drunk on boob milk. Before I set her in her incubator, I gently kissed her forehead, "I'll be right here when you wake up." I whispered, setting my sleeping daughter onto a little makeshift blanket that I had made for her out of my dad's old Johnny Cash shirt. Closing and securing the door, I held my hand a second longer before I walked out of the NICU. My legs felt like Jell-O as I ventured into the waiting room, upon coming across some chairs, I practically fell into one of them.

Working my jaw oddly, my eyelids felt like they had a hundred pound sandbag weighing them down, and were growing heavier when I pulled my phone out, just holding it in my hands. Leaned over, I scrolled through my contacts, staying on Dean's number for a long while until I shook my head, deciding against calling him. I mean, I wanted to call Dean, but I couldn't. I knew that I had to be the last person he wanted to speak to, let alone the fact he was hiding something from me. I pocketed the phone with a frown, leaning back into the chair. I winced at the pull on my incision, remembering that it was still healing.

I rolled my eyes at myself. _Why did Dean have to look at me like I was some dying animal?_ I blinked, only waking up to vibrating against my hip. I reached into my pocket tiredly for my phone, and realized Sam was calling me. I frowned. I couldn't talk to him because I knew he'd tell Dean, or he'd snatch the phone away from him like he always done. Then I'd be in bigger trouble that before—not that I cared or anything.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Cooper's Carnival—Day**_

Sam and I decided to split up. I took grounds while he took the funhouse, you know, to keep him on his toes. The both of us got these stupid, bright orange looking uniforms that said, _Cooper's Carnival_. I seriously looked like a walking tangerine. Between picking up trash and scanning my EMF meter, I often mistook several blondes for Abigail by just glancing at them real quick.

To be honest, there wasn't a place I would rather be other than being with her and my daughter right about now. Instead, I was out at some carnival, almost getting jumped _not_ once, but _twice_ by two pissed off midgets and a blind knife thrower. These people here were touchy over _little_ things.

I snorted out in amusement as I dumped a bag of trash into a dumpster. I had to admit, Sam did make a point. If Abigail had went with us, she probably would've made quick work at finding this cursed object. Taking a break from picking up other people's trash, I pulled my cellphone out, glancing to the screen. I frowned, seeing that I had no missed calls.

I_ screwed the pooch on this one_. I thought bitterly, scrolling through my contacts and held my place on Abigail's number. Tapping my thumb lightly against the 'Select' button, I decided against it. There was no way that she was going to answer the phone. Not after what I did to her, and I didn't blame her. Her words burned into my brain, hearing the hurt and betrayal in her voice. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't just let her come with us in the shape she was in, and if it wasn't for Sam...I wouldn't have known.

Hanging my head, I chewed on the inside of my cheek, realizing that I had done everything I told her I didn't. She didn't deserve an asshat like me.

No sooner I had pocketed my cellphone, it started to ring. Quickly, I picked it back up, "Hello?" _That didn't sound desperate at all_.

"_Hey, man_." It was Sam. I smacked my forehead with the heel of my palm. _Of course it was you're your brother, stupid!_

"What's the matter?" I asked after I cleared my throat, "You sound like you just saw a clown."

"_Very funny_." Sam said, causing me to chuckle. "_Skeleton, actually_."

"Like a real human skeleton?" I asked, forcing my head to go back into business mode. I'd deal with everything else later.

"_In the funhouse_." My brother explained. _Oh, how ironic was that_? I thought. "_Listen, I was thinking. What if the spirit isn't attached to a cursed object - what if it's attached to its own remains_?"

"Did the bones give off EMF?" I headed toward the funhouse.

"Well, no, but –"

"We should check it out anyway. I'm heading to you." I told him, hanging up the phone until someone grabbed my arm. I jerked around, bewildered to see that it was Barry, the Blind Man who liked pointy objects.

"What are you doing here, kid?" He questioned with suspicion coating his words.

I grinned sheepishly, "I'm... I was just sweeping."

"Bull." Barry called me out. "And what were you talking about? Skeletons? What's EMF?"

I couldn't help but be impressed with this old man's hearing. The damn guy had Vulcan hearing, "Dude, your blind man hearing is out of control." I told him.

"We're a tight-knit group." Barry told me, "We don't like outsiders. We take care of our own problems."

"We got a problem?" I questioned him.

Barry was silent for a moment, "You tell me - you're the one talking about human bones."

_Touché._ "Do you believe in ghosts?" I finally asked.

Barry's face twisted into a look of confusion, "What?"

"My brother and me... umm. We're writing a book about them; mystery novel if you want to call it." I said quickly, trying to cover my ass, "You know spirits, monsters—all things that go bump in the night. My girlfriend, she's back home…she's the writer, we're just the guinea pigs." I shifted, looking over my shoulder for a moment. I went on to proceed in telling the old man an urban legend about some homicidal phantom clown, elaborating some details.

Considering my words, Barry nodded, "Oh. Why didn't you just say so? Good luck with it." He patted my shoulder twice before he turned and walked off. Watching that he was _way _far off, I blew out a sigh of relief and high-tailed it to a place near the funhouse. Sam looked impatient.

"What took you so long?" My brother asked.

I held my hand up, "Long story."

"Mommy, look at the clown!" Sam and I both looked over to see a little girl pointing at an area between two trailers.

"What clown?" I heard her mother ask. She looked in the same direction as her daughter's finger pointed to, but didn't see anything, "Come on, sweetie, come on."

I looked over to Sam, giving him an awkward look. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that this family's life was in jeopardy tonight.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Family's Home—Night**_

"Dean, I cannot believe you told Papazian about the homicidal phantom clown." Sam chastised.

I shrugged at him, "I told him an urban legend about a homicidal phantom clown. I never said it was real." I took my gun out, cocking it. Before I could do anything, Sam's hand shot out, pushing my hands and the gun down.

"Keep that down!" Sam hissed.

"Oh, and get this," I added, totally ignoring his dirty look, "I mentioned the Bunker Brother's Circus in '81 and their, uh, evil clown apocalypse? Guess what."

Sam's brows rose, "What?" He implored.

"Before Mr. Cooper owned Cooper Carnival, he worked for Bunker Brothers. He was their lot manager." I explained while Sam kept his attention on the house.

"So you think whatever the spirit is attached to, Cooper just brought it with him?" Sam asked.

"Something like that." I stated, shaking my head with a sigh, "I can't believe we keep talking about clowns." This was definitely going on our 'weirder than normal jobs' list. It wasn't every day we had to gank some phantom clown. I yawned, crossing my arms across my chest before I dozed off.

I startled awake feeling Sam shake me awake. I glared at him, until he pointed to a light on in the dining room. Rubbing my eyes, I blinked a few times to see a girl opening the front door and held out her hand.

_What the hell?_ Sam and I got out of the van in record time where we headed to the back of the house undetected, and slipped in through the window, again, undetected. Glancing to Sam, he nodded taking position against a wall in order to grab the girl while I blasted this clown back to wherever the hell it came from. This hit way too close to home for me.

Hearing the soft steps of the girl come through the hallway, I leaned over to see where they were at, "Wanna see Mommy and Daddy? They're upstairs." She asked quietly. I nodded to Sam, who leapt out and grabbed the girl, in which, she began screaming while I stepped out and shot the clown in the chest. It fell on its back before getting up while I cocked the shotgun again.

"Sam, watch out!" Sam's head shot up just in time as the clown advanced toward him, and leapt out of the window, becoming invisible as it ran away. Then we were left with a screaming little girl, and of course, the parents.

"What's going on here? Get away from my—" Her father demanded.

"Oh my god, what are you doing to my daughter?!" The girl's mother exclaimed.

"Who the hell are you? Get out! Get out of my house!" The girl's father yelled out. He didn't have to tell us twice. Sam released the girl while we sprinted out of that house and to the van, where I didn't give Sam the chance to fully get in. We sped off, driving the van as far as we could to ensure that nothing was following behind.

It was sometime in the morning that I had decided that we were far away enough, digging out the rest of our stuff—including the license plates.

"You really think they saw our plates?" Sam questioned as I shouldered my duffle bag.

"I don't wanna take the chance." I told him, slamming down the trunk, "Besides, I hate this fucking thing anyway." Sam and I walked about a mile or so down the road, "Well, one thing's for sure."

"What's that?" Sam prompted.

"We're not dealing with a spirit. I mean, that rock salt hit something solid." I said.

"Yeah, a person? Or maybe a creature that can make itself invisible?" Sam suggested.

I nodded, "Yeah, and dresses up like a clown for kicks? Did it say anything in Dad's journal?"

Sam shook his head, mind wandering elsewhere. I raised a brow at him when he cleared his throat, pulling out his cellphone.

"Who are you calling?" I prompted.

"Maybe Ellen or that guy Ash'll know something. If not, then I'll call Abigail." Sam offered, "Hey, you think, uh, you think Dad and Ellen ever had a thing?"

"No way." I denied.

"Then why didn't he tell us about her?" I shrugged, not really caring if I knew the answer to that question or not.

"I don't know, maybe they had some sort of falling out." It had to be something considering the voicemail.

"Yeah. You ever notice Dad had a falling out with just about everybody?" Nodding casually, Sam lowered the phone, "Well, don't get all Maudlin on me, man."

My eyes went from the road to my brother in a sharp look, "What do you mean?"

"I mean this "strong silent" thing of yours, its crap." Sam said.

I groaned, "Oh, god."

"I'm over it. This isn't just anyone we're talking about, this is Dad. I know how you and Abigail felt about the man." He pressed.

I turned to him, annoyed. "Great. I get it from Abigail, now I gotta hear it from you? You know what—back off, alright? Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you and Abs want me to—"

"No, no, no, that's not what this is about, Dean." I inclined my head at my brother, looking at him for a moment before I rolled my eyes and stared ahead at me. "I don't care how you deal with this. But you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I'm your brother, alright? I just want to make sure you're okay."

"Dude, I'm okay. I'm okay, _okay_?" I snapped as my voice became louder with aggravation, "I swear, the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwing punches. These are your issues, quit dumping them on me!" I stopped walking, turning to stare at Sam with narrowed eyes.

Sam furrowed his brows, "What are you talking about?" He asked, confused.

"I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad. It's like, _oh, what would Dad want me to do_?" I watched him draw his brows together at my words, "Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, hell, you—you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him. And now that he's dead, now you want to make it right? Well, I'm sorry Sam, but you can't—it's too little, too late." In the timeframe that my words left my mouth, another round of Abigail's words replayed in my head.

_You're only holdin' yourself with pins and needles for the very same reasons I am, and lemme tell you somethin'—that's not gonna hold up for long._ I ground my teeth at Abigail's words, ignoring the fact that Sam was staring at me, stunned; w_hen they bust loose, Dean—so help me they will—don't you come to me._

Sam's eyes teared up, "Why are you saying this to me?"

"Because I want you to be honest with yourself about this. I'm dealing with Dad's death!" I shouted, "Are you?"

Clearly upset, Sam swallowed, "I'm going to call Ellen." He said quietly in a hushed tone, walking ahead of me while I stayed back. I ran my hands through my hair, blowing out a heated sigh as I closed my eyes.

_I'll be right here waiting until you and the baby get out of the hospital. I promise._

I inhaled deeply, trying to force down the echoing series of thumps that haunted me in my sleep. _Okay, that's it everybody. I'll call it…Time of death: 10:41 AM._

"Bastard." I muttered out in a scoff, clenching my jaw. Looking up, I noticed that Sam was thirty yards ahead of me and still going strong.

* * *

_**Sam's Point of View**_

_**Further Down the Road—Day**_

"_Did Abigail ever call you?_" Ellen asked.

I blew out a sigh, "No. I've not heard from her since we left the Roadhouse." Ellen sounded deeply worried about her, hell, I was too, "Ellen, if Abigail went anywhere, it'd be back to the hospital to be with Megan."

"_I figured that's where she'd go,_" came her reply, "_She was awfully tore up about her and Dean's argument, that's for sure._"

"Yeah, I know how that story goes." I muttered, glancing over my shoulder to see Dean trailing behind me with his normal, guarded look. He still had no clue that Abigail had gone AWOL. As he approached me, I needed a way to tell him. "Thanks a lot for helping though."

"_No problem._" I hung up, barely looking to my brother.

"Rakshasa." I said.

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"Ellen's best guess." I explained, "It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures. They appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited."

"So, they dress up like clowns, and the children invite 'em in." Dean said frowning.

I nodded, "Yeah."

"Why don't they just munch on the kids?" He asked, looking puzzled.

"No idea. Not enough meat on the bones, maybe?" I suggested. Dean inclined his head, falling into step with me.

"What else'd you find out?" He prompted.

_Other than Abigail missing?_ "Well, apparently, Rakshasas live in squalor. They sleep on a bed of dead insects."

Dean grimaced, "Nice."

"Yeah, and they have to feed a few times every twenty or thirty years. Slow metabolism, I guess."

"Well, that makes sense. I mean, the Carnival today, the Bunker Brothers in '81." Dean pieced together, inclining his head.

"Right." I agreed, "Probably more before that."

"Hey Sam, who do we know that worked both shows?" Dean asked.

"Cooper?" I answered.

Dean nodded, "Cooper."

"You know, that picture of his father that looked just like him." I offered.

"You think maybe it was him?" The thought of that chilled me.

"Well, who knows how old he is?" I said.

"Ellen say how to kill him?" He asked, turning his head to look at me.

"Legend goes, a dagger made of pure brass." I answered.

Dean nodded, thinking of something, "I think I know where to get one of those."

"Well, before we go stabbing things into Cooper, we're going to want to make damn sure it's him." I pointed out.

"Oh, you're such a stickler for details, Sammy." Dean said teasingly. For a brief second, we shared a laugh, "Alright, I'll round up the blade, you go check if Cooper's got bedbugs." Still walking, silence fell between us, and Dean glanced over to me as if he was going to say something.

"What?" I asked.

Dean shook his head, "Nothing."

I knitted my brows, "What?"

"It's stupid." He muttered.

"You were going to ask if I spoke to Abigail, weren't you?" I asked, seeing his guarded look before he nodded. _Moment of truth_. "I haven't…and, neither has Ellen." I breathed out, seeing his face scrunch in confusion.

"What do you mean, Ellen hasn't?" he asked, pausing, "Abs is supposed to be there."

I walked ahead a good fifteen feet before I turned to face him, "Abigail isn't there at the Roadhouse. She left sometime after we left—" I shook my head, "And she's not heard from her, neither have I. I've called her phone a hundred times at least, and all I get is her voicemail."

Dean blinked, his demeanor changing in a blink of an eye, and briefly…oh so briefly, I could've sworn I saw a flicker of emotion fall upon his face. Something like painful realization, "So, you're tellin' me that Abs…cut and run?" He asked softly.

I shook my head, "No, Dean. I'm not saying she _left_. I have a hunch that she's either at Bobby's or at the NICU with Megan." I moved to my brother, and placed my hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance, "Trust me, she's not gonna be far from your all's kid."

Dean nodded, working his jaw oddly as he glanced everywhere else but me. He was worried, or maybe even infuriated. I couldn't really tell, "Okay. Alright." He said, licking the corner of his mouth before he smirked, "Well, let's get to it."

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Bobby's House—Night**_

After spending the entire day with Megan, I finally drug myself up to Bobby's front door just as the sun sank below the horizon. I knocked on the door loudly, waiting for the gruff man to answer it.

"_For the millionth time, Dean, if I see her, I'll have her call ya_." Bobby said from somewhere inside the house, "_Yeah, yeah._ _See you sometime tomorrow_." A small beep sounded, "_Idjits._"

I rolled my eyes, instantly knowing that this was going to be a joyous welcoming committee. Bobby's heavy footfalls came closer, then swung the door open. I waved half-assed to him, watching as he glanced to the phone, then back to me, "Balls!"

"Hey, Bobby." I said tiredly.

"Where have you been?" He demanded, stepping to the side to let me in.

I ran my hand through my hair, "I've been with my daughter, where else?"

"For a day and a half?" He prompted, following me through the house until we were in his kitchen. I went to the fridge, opening it to get a beer. I looked to him holding one up, and he nodded, despite the sour look on his face, "Do you realize what I had to endure for the past five minutes?"

Handing him the beer, I popped the cap off, lazily tossing it into the trashcan before I took a swig. "Yes, and I could personally care less what the pompous dickbutt has to say." Bobby blinked, growing suspicious about my behavior.

"You and him get into it?" He asked.

I inclined my head at him, "Why else would I be here and not with them?"

Bobby whistled, "_Them?_ Sam and Dean both. That's a doozy."

I shrugged, "It was just as much as me, as it was them…but what can I say? I just have that effect on people."

"Ah, it ain't you." Bobby said, "Look who raised you three." I inclined my head, heading to the living room where I sat down on the couch, taking another long swallow of beer until I basically had chugged it dry, and set it on the table in front of me. Bobby was moving around the room, going into detail of what Dean had told him…only, I didn't listen and focused on how _comfortable_ this couch was.

With my legs curled underneath me, I propped my head up on my knuckles watching whatever Bobby had on the television. It looked like _Lonesome Dove_. Tommy Lee Jones and Robert Duvall confirmed my hunch. The last thing I fully remembered was feeling something being draped over me before I drifted off to sleep.

* * *

_**Sam's Point of View**_

_**Cooper's Carnival**_

_**Cooper's Trailer—Night**_

Night had fallen by the time Dean and I had come back to the carnival, waiting for the last string of people to leave and the staff to turn out their lights. Dean went off to find a bronze knife, while I had the duty of looking for evidence that Cooper was our Rakshasa. I glanced over my shoulder as I picked the lock to his trailer, and stepped inside.

Within the trailer, it seemed empty. Not a sign of anything out of the ordinary. Pulling out my pocket knife, I pulled up the covers to slice open the mattress in search of dead bugs until a gun cocked behind me. I looked up, alarmed, to see Cooper pointing a shotgun at me.

_Shit._

"What do you think you're doing?"

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Barry's Trailer—Night**_

"Well, I've got all kinds of knives." Barry said leading me into his trailer, "I don't know if I've got a brass one, though." I stood back watching as the old man tapped a trunk with his cane, "Check the trunk." He offered.

Kneeling, I opened the trunk and felt my blood run cold. In front of me was a red clown wig, _exactly_ like our psycho killer clown. I stood up, turning to him, "You?"

Barry dropped his cane, pulled off his glasses; his eyes looked normal. "Me." He said with a smirk, while his eyes got cloudy again shortly before his face began to melt. With a wave, Barry disappeared Cheshire-cat style, and the last thing remaining was his eyes. Then they disappeared.

_Shit. _I turned to face trailer door, and fumbled with the knob. The damn thing wouldn't budge! A knife shot out of nowhere, flying past my head and buried itself in the door. I jumped about a foot after another one landed with a _thunk_, a little higher than the last.

"Alright!" I yelled out, finally managing to get the door opened, and booked it out of there, tumbling out of the trailer. I didn't just stop running when I came out of that trailer, I kept going until someone yelled out.

"Hey!" It was Sam.

I skidded to a stop, turning to my brother, "Hey." I greeted him when he ran up to me.

"So, Cooper thinks I'm a Peeping Tom, but it's not him." He said out of breath.

I nodded, "Yeah, so I gathered. It's the blind guy." I looked around us warily, "He's here somewhere."

"Well, did you get the – " Sam began to ask.

"The brass blades? No." I interrupted him, "It's just been one of those days."

Sam thought of a second, then like a bulb had went off in his head, he looked towards the funhouse, "I got an idea. Come on."

Entering the funhouse, Sam was ahead of me until a door slammed between us.

"Sam!" I yelled out slamming my shoulder against the door.

"Dean!" Sam yelled out from the other side of the door, "Dean, find the maze, okay?" I looked around, finding a passageway and went through it. Apparently this was the maze Sam was talking about. I wound up at so many dead ends, I was about fed up with this damn thing until I spotted Sam once I came around a corner.

"Hey." I said, relieved, as I walked up to him.

"Hey!" He said, holding a brass pipe, "Where is it?"

"I don't know, I mean, shouldn't we see its clothes walking around?" I asked, turning to look around. A knife suddenly flew past me, pinning my sleeve to the wall, another one pinning my wrist. Cursing, I tried pulling the knives out, only to see that they were embedding into the wall all the way to the hilt. I looked over at Sam, who was still trying to pry the pipe out. "Sam!"

Just as he pulled the pipe all the way off, a knife flew past his head, dodging it, "Dean, where is he?" He called out, stalking forward slowly.

"I don't know!" I reached up and pulled a lever; more steam poured out from the pipe organ. Maybe it would offer me more of an advantage, then noticed a vague shape wandering in the steam behind my brother. "Sam, behind you! Behind you!" I called out.

Years and years of Dad's drilling paid off as Sam reacted instantly jabbing the pipe behind him without looking. Turning, he saw the pipe buried into an object—the unseen Rakshasa—watching blood pour from the wound. I pried both knives out from my sleeve, then pulled the lever. Once the smoke had cleared, the both of us looked to the floor where a set of empty clothes and a bloodied pipe laid to attest that there was ever anything.

* * *

_**Sam's Point of View**_

_**Roadhouse—Morning**_

It had been a long night considering what we had been through. To be more exact, it had been a long week. In short, nobody was throwing knives at us, so I guess I can say that was better than anything at the moment. Ellen sat two beers down in front of us.

"You boys did a hell of a job. Your dad'd be proud." She said with a smile.

I smiled back at her, "Thanks." Jo, who had been sitting on the other side of Dean, had been staring me down with a not-so-subtle look to leave. I cleared my throat, avoiding her pointed stare, "Oh yeah, um, I've gotta... uh, uh, I've gotta go." I said quickly, earning an amused look from Dean as I pointed to the jukebox, "Over there. Right now. "

I crossed the room over to the jukebox hearing Jo clear her throat. I glanced over my shoulder at her, then looked to Dean.

"So." She said.

"So." Dean replied with a nod to her.

"Am I gonna see you again?" Jo asked him.

Dean chuckled, amused. "Do you want to?" I furrowed my brows at him seemingly confused at where this conversation was going. There was a million different ways that I could think of and the majority was bad.

_Quit eavesdropping_.

"I wouldn't hate it." Jo answered with a smile in her voice. Throwing another tentative look, I noticed Ellen doing about the same thing I was—listening more than ignoring.

_So, I wasn't the only one._ I smirked at that. _Had Abigail been here, she'd be doing the same thing we are._

Dean hummed thoughtfully at her, "Can I be honest with you?" He asked, "See, a few years ago, I'd be hitting on you so fast it'd make your head spin." He made a sound similar to him clearing his throat, "But, uh, these days…" I heard the hesitation in his voice, causing me to turn slightly out of curiosity, "I'm involved, and I just had a kid."

I met Ellen's approving look and grinned a little. I seriously didn't need to worry myself over my brother's relationship with Abigail. Jo didn't miss our looks, judging by the scowls she gave both her mother and I, she seemed a little perplexed.

"Who's the lucky girl?" Jo asked.

"Abigail." My brother's voice held a smile in his words, "Gave me the most beautiful daughter three weeks ago."

Jo furrowed her brows, glancing from me back to Dean almost bewildered, "Wait..isn't she-?"

"Adopted." I added with a sad undertone in my voice, taking a seat back at the bar. "Demon killed her family, our Dad took her in. Been with us ever since."

Dean looked at me from the corner of his eye while I spoke, chewing on this inside of his mouth, "Wouldn't have it any other way…" Jo made something like that of a scoff, turning fresh eyes on Dean. Despite the guarded expression his face held, there was a glimmer of deep affection and guilt hidden in his eyes. _He loved his girls_.

Ellen cleaned an empty glass, nodding, "Steven and Avery were some damn good people." She added, "From what I remember of them, they were always helping out in some way. Steven was the kind of guy that would give you the shirt off his back. Avery—," Ellen let out a low whistle, "the girl had spunk to her. Could start a fight in an empty room, but she had a heart of gold. The two of them were basically inseparable."

"How-how do you know so much about her parents?" I asked, earning a similar gaze from Dean.

"Bill knew them through demon hunting—they were well-known in the hunting community. Often sought to on different jobs." She explained, "I used to be real close Avery, watched Abigail a lot when they went on trips. According to Bill, Steven was damn good reciting an exorcism from memory." Dean's mouth twitched into a knowing smirk.

_Meg_. I thought, "Sounds like he drilled Abigail into knowing things like that." I mused.

Ellen looked over to me, "Oh?"

My brother gave me a pointed look that essentially told me not to go there. "There was this, uh, demon. Abigail blew through an exorcism ritual like it was lyrics to a Johnny Cash song."

Ellen nodded approvingly, "Then her daddy taught her well." Dean nodded in silence, pressing his bottle of beer to his lips and took a drink. The back door opened and Ash sashayed through, carrying our dad's folder and what looked like a bizarre laptop.

"Where you guys been? Been waitin' for ya." Ash asked, then looked around confused, "I thought there were three of you. Blonde, beautiful, and southern?"

Dean raised his brow at the description of Abigail, not too amused. I laughed, "She went to be with her daughter in the hospital." I explained, "We were working a job, Ash. Clowns?"

Ash furrowed his brows, "Clowns? What the –"

"You got something for us, Ash?" Dean interrupted. Ash set the laptop down on a table. It looked like something he had made himself, wires were exposed.

I leaned in to take a better look at the laptop, "Did you find the demon?"

"It's nowhere around." Ash replied, "At least, nowhere I can find. But if this fugly bastard raises his head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like Divine on dog dookie." My brow rose at that. _Okay._

"What do you mean?" I asked, throwing a shrug to Dean when he scrunched his face at me.

"I mean," He said turning the laptop towards us, "any of those signs or omens appear, anywhere in the world, my rig'll go off. Like a fire alarm."

Being the little kid he very much needed to be, Dean reached out to touch the laptop, "Do you mind..." Ash gave him a dirty look while he shrank his hand back from the keyboard.

"What's up, man?" He said, getting defensive about his invention.

I huffed out a laugh, clearly amazed by his work, "Ash, where did you learn to do all this?"

"M.I.T. Before I got bounced for... fighting." He replied, giving us an odd look.

"M.I.T.?" I asked, tearing my gaze from the laptop to Ash.

"It's a school in Boston." Ash explained.

Dean nodded, "Okay. Give us a call as soon as you know something?" He asked, sitting back on his stool.

"_Si, si, compadre_." Ash replied with a nod. Dean took another sip of his beer then set it down. Picking up the discarded bottle, Ash took a drink from it, obviously not afraid of catching something. Dean motioned his head to move to the door—he was definitely itching to get back to Bobby's.

"Hey, listen –" Ellen called out, "if you boys need a place to stay I've got a couple beds out back."

Dean nodded, "Thanks, but no. There's something I gotta finish, and somebody I gotta see."

With a knowing smile, Ellen nodded, "Okay. And, Dean?" He paused looking to her with an inquiring look, "Tell Abigail I said, _Hey_."

He shifted, "Sure thing."

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Bobby's Junkyard—Day**_

The gang was back together, though, it seemed more tore and frayed than what was needed to be admitted. Dean barely spoke ten full sentences to me in the past three days, while Sam was the complete opposite; elaborating what went on during their job. Like it had been for the past two weeks now, Dean returned to working on the car again. This time, he was unscrewing bolts to the wheels in order to get to the wheel drum. I stayed perched on a nearby abandoned truck while Sam paced nearby, clearly looking upset about something. _John._

"You were right." He suddenly said.

Dean let out a grunt as he stood up to weave around him and the Impala in search of a tool, "About what?" He asked, looking around until I tapped the side of the truck I was on, earning a look from him when I held up a socket wrench. He nodded, coming over to me and took it, enclosing my fingers in his. He must've held it there a few seconds longer than what would be considered normal until he averted his eyes to the ground and turned, making his way back to the Impala.

"About me and Dad." Sam said, "I'm sorry that the last time I was with him I tried to pick a fight. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. I mean, for all I know he died thinking that I hate him."

"Sammy—" I said softly.

Sam flicked his hands out, slapping them against his jeans, "So you're right. What I'm doing right now, it's too little. It's too late." Sam's lips began to tremble, "I miss him, man. And I feel guilty as hell. And I'm not all right. Not at all." His tongue darted out, seeing the tears he held glitter, "But neither are you guys. That much I know." After a pause, Sam inhaled sharply and nodded, "I'll let you get back to work."

Upon turning his back to leave, Dean watched him go in silence. Who knew what he was thinking? Feeling—sorrow and guilt and anger was rolling off of him and crashed into me. When Sam was out of view, Dean turned his head to me, "Why'd you leave?"

"I wasn't stayin' in a place I didn't know." I replied simply.

"But you were _safe_." His eyes bored holes into mine.

"I wanted to be with our daughter, you weren't there to stop me." Dean picked up a crowbar and slammed the end of it into a nearby car, causing me to jump.

"I had _no clue_ where you were! _No_ clue!" He yelled out.

I blinked out of shock at the animosity that was coming off of him, "Like-like I said before, you know nothin' until Sam tells you."

His hand remained tightly wrapped around the crowbar, picking it up and pointed it to me, "You could've gotten hurt or worse!"

I narrowed my eyes at him, shaking off the sliver of fear that I felt, "Well then I guess I woulda done you a favor, then, huh?"

"How much of a self-centered bitch do you have to be?" He spat out, "Look at you!"

I scoffed, "Look at _me_? Dean, you look at me like I'm some dyin' animal! I'm fine! Okay?!" I stepped down off the truck, watching as the vein in his neck twitched. I saw the look in his eyes: a little bit of terror mixed with wrath. I felt this nasty pit in my stomach. He knew something I didn't, "Dean," I said gently, trying to coax him out of his angry state, "talk to me. What happened while I was out?"

Dean's grip on the crowbar tightened, and then he started smashing the windows to the Impala.

I gasped out of shock, "_Dean_, stop!" I begged him, but he couldn't hear me at all as he kept hitting the car. It was so surreal that it would come down to this. The Impala was nearly finished—it looked almost new. Seeing him bust out the back glass, dent the trunk and quarter panels, I couldn't stand to let him damage the one thing he loved other than me, Sam, and Megan. _This was his pins and needles busting apart_.

"_Dean_!" I reached out to grab the crowbar from his hands when he started to slow down. It clattered to the ground about the time Dean had grabbed me by the arms and slammed me against the side of the Impala. I hissed when I felt a jagged piece of metal cut my left hand, but didn't bother to move. Dean's hands gripped my arms so tight, it hurt, "You're hurtin' me." I gritted out, staring him down. In those hazel eyes of his, they looked tormented; reeling. "Let me go."

Breathing hard, Dean remained where he stood. That was until I jerked my arm out of his grasp and punched him as hard as I could in the jaw. It worked because he let me go, staring at me, utterly bewildered. I was fighting off every urge to just start crying in front of him. His anger had surmounted anything I had seen come from him, and there was no way in _hell_ I was going to breakdown in front of him. Not after everything that's happened. After a few moments of deafening silence, I narrowed my eyes at him in vehemence, "You dick!" I growled out before shouldered my way past him and ran back into Bobby's house with whatever strength I had left.

Slamming the door open, I had my bleeding hand clutched into my shirt. Sam and Bobby rushed into the hall to see what was going on. When I stormed past Bobby, Sam saw the blood on my shirt and gaped in alarm.

"Abigail? What happened?" Sam asked.

"Your brother!" I yelled out, ignoring the horrible fact that my voice was breaking with emotion, "_That's_ what happened!" Sam looked to the door in shock, then watched me as I stomped up the stairs to the bathroom. My heart was breaking just from the shock of everything. As soon as I shut the door, I started huffing out uneasy and strained breaths Emotions rampaged through my body at a million miles a minute. It was _so_ hard to believe that John was gone, just like my dad. I wanted to believe that he had just left on a hunting trip—just like my dad and mom did, taking the kids with them. It was something I could hang onto so easily, but in reality, two of the greatest men I've ever known were ripped from me in a blink of an eye.

I felt my bottom lip trembling from the crushing weight of the past couple of weeks until my uneasy breaths had formed into choking sobs. I lifted my hands above my head, and placed them on the back of my neck as I curled up in front of the bathroom door, enduring the body wracking sobs that tore through me like a torrential typhoon.

I felt so betrayed.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_You're only holdin' yourself with pins and needles for the very same reasons I am, and lemme tell you somethin'—that's not gonna hold up for long. When they bust loose, Dean—so help me they will—don't you come to me_.

I leaned against the Impala panting, feeling the sharp pain in my jaw from Abigail's right hook. _So this was it. These so-called 'pins and needles' that seemingly held me together had burst loose; just like she said_. I scoffed, blindly staring into nothingness through tears that I refused to let go. Abigail saw through me; always having this knowing look in her eyes when we argued.

I swiped my hand across my face with a shuddering breath. Everything just seemed to crash down on me. Dad was gone—truly gone, my daughter's life hung in the balance on a day to day basis, and this family—_my family_—was falling apart. Unlike me, Abigail had been understanding and selfless up to a point, and Sam just wanted someone to reach out to. I was supposed to be there for them, I could've done something to make it easier on them, but I didn't. I didn't make a move at all. Did that mean that I was a selfish bastard?

My hand balled up into a fist against the sun-warmed metal, letting out my frustration and anger and self-loathing, until my hand was throbbing and blood smeared across the dented in place. This wasn't some dream. I hadn't almost hurt Abigail, I already did. It wasn't just her that I ignored. I ignored my brother—my own flesh and blood. _How low is that_? I forced myself to turn back around, to look where Sam and Abigail both stood pleading to get some kind of response from me.

_Does it ever occur that you're not the only one missin' Dad? He wasn't just yours and Sam's dad; he was mine too._ I hung my head at Abigail's words. "I know he was, Abs." I felt the painful prick of another round of tears.

_I miss him, man._ "God, Sam…" I put my hand to my mouth and ran it down quickly. I kicked the crowbar out of my way as I headed back into Bobby's place—where I was greeted with a none-to-kind welcoming committee.

"What the hell just happened?" Sam blasted me as soon as I stepped through the door. He followed me to the bottom of the stairs that led up to the second floor, "Dean!"

I paused, "I don't wanna talk about it."

He let out a scoff, "Of course you wouldn't, Dean. Abigail comes flying in here—bleeding—and you act like it's nothing. She won't even _speak_ to me!"

"We just had a little disagreement—that was it." I said flatly, "Just…go do whatever stuff it is you do." Sam rolled his eyes at me muttering "I can't believe this." _Yeah, well, you better believe it, Sammy._ "Word of the wise," I added, "_Don't_ be in a relationship if you can't handle the crap that comes with it."

I didn't wait for another response. Climbing the stairs, I peered into the room that Abs and I always shared seeing that she wasn't there. For a split second, crippling fear ebbed into my mind thinking that she had cut out and run until I heard the sound of someone moving in water from in the bathroom. Slowly approaching the door, I heard Abigail's soft sniffles and quick intake of breath. I leaned my head against the door, squeezing my eyes shut out of guilt. _She was crying because of me._

Hesitant, I lifted my hand to the door and knocked, hearing a small gasp from Abigail and then a soft curse. "Go away, Sam. I told you I'm fine…" I rolled my eyes at her lie, "'sides, I don't wanna hear your Dr. Phil crap."

I entered the bathroom anyways hearing her slide into the tub. Already I could feel her eyes bore into me with animosity. I didn't care. Looking at her, she was half-hidden in the tub filled with a thick blanket of bubbles. If it weren't for the fact that I felt like shit, I would've smiled—one of her favorite things to do was soak in a tub filled to the brim with bubbles after a hunt or us arguing.

"It's uh," I cleared my throat to sway the sound of my voice breaking, "your dick of a lover." I muttered, "Not little big brother." Abigail's jaw was set avoiding my gaze. She had the right to.

"Well, you go too." She replied simply, lifting her arm out of the water and waved me off casually, "Since I'm being a self-centered bitch an' all."

I heaved out a sigh, "Abs...I-I didn't mean to say that to you."

Abigail snorted, "Yeah, an' I guess slammin' me into the car was an accident too."

I grimaced at that, "I was out of line." I told her as she scoffed. Her lips tipped upwards into a sarcastic smirk as if I basically said a lie. "Look, you're not going anywhere. I'm not going anywhere."

"I'll find a way out." She muttered stubbornly, not entirely thinking of what she had just said. I fought off the urge to laugh at that.

"I'm not budging from this spot." I said simply, "You wanted to talk? Well, here I am. You're gonna talk to me." I told her, splaying my arms out, "There's more going on with you than what you lead on with Sam and Bobby."

Abigail looked over at me with narrowed eyes. If looks could've killed, I would be dead. "I said, I'm fine."

"Don't give me that shit, Abigail. I know what _'I'm fine'_ means when it comes from you." I tapped my chest, "If you don't think for once that I'm not hurting, you're wrong." Her eyes met mine in silence while I fought off another bout of tears. Drawing a deep breath, I worked my jaw in an odd manner, "Look, I understand if you don't want to speak to me after what happened out there in the scrap yard, I do. But for me to think that you're hurting over our daughter being in the hospital and not breathing a word of it to anyone, then I need you to talk to me." I said gently, "I need to know what I can do to make it easier on you, hell, easier on the both of us, because I know it ain't easy. Especially since…" I trailed off, but she knew who I meant. _Especially since Dad died_.

"Abs, I've been nothing but a Grade-A douche-bag to you and Sammy—"

"That's an understatement." Abigail muttered, "But go on."

I swallowed hard. This was harder than what I thought, "You and him? You two don't deserve it—not from me of all people. I was supposed to keep you two safe, make sure you two were happy and nothing hurt you," I couldn't look at her anymore, "and—and I blew it."

"I'm so damn tired, Dean." She breathed out finally, "I'm about to fall over, and I could care less about it. I can't sleep—not while Megan is still in the hospital, not while that demon is still on the loose." Her eyes glittered from unspent tears when she looked to me, "and what would make it easier on me is for me to be able to hold my daughter without cords bein' attached to her." I nodded in understanding. I wanted the same thing. Then she made a sound that was something between a scoff and a laugh, "And then I think, it's my fault she's there in that hospital, born thirteen weeks early."

"Don't you dare say that," I ground out, "Just don't. Not for one minute do I think it's your fault that Megan's born. If you want to blame anything, blame the yellow-eyed son of a bitch that caused all of this." I took a deep breath, "Dad is dead because of him. I almost lost you to him, and I almost lost our daughter. The bastard's gonna get what's coming to him. I swear by it."

I watched silently as Abigail rose up out of her cover of bubbles, taking notice of how the water and suds fell of her. Between the thin sheen of water, her colored nipples puckered as air hit them. I licked my lips upon seeing them bead. _What I wanted to do to them—_I heard a slip and she disappeared for a split second. I rushed forward in alarm, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulled her up as she sputtered and coughed.

I pushed her hair back out of her face, staring at her, alarmed.

"You're gonna make me stop breathin'." She muttered after regaining normalcy to her breathing.

I reached out to stroke the side of her face with a small, smirk twisting in the corner of my mouth, "And I'll breathe for you until you breathe again." I promised, "Abigail, I will always be here for you. No matter what. If something is wrong with you, our daughter, or Sam—you come to me no matter what. You three are all I have left, and I'm not taking my chances of losing either of you."

Abigail stared at me in silence for a couple of beats before her eyes flickered down to my lips not once, but twice, and wordlessly, pulled me into a heated kiss. A fire was lit instantly as soon as I was pulled into the tub with her. Water and suds went everywhere as soon as I hit the water. Her lips were attached to mine feeling her hands go underneath my shirt to feel me.

Soaking wet, we broke away briefly to allow me to peel my shirt off. It landed in the bathroom floor with a loud splat, soon followed by the jacket I had tied around my waist along with the wet thumps of my boots. I came back down to her, running my lips against her skin. A small gasp elicited from her, and she squirmed underneath me. There wasn't anything in this world I wanted more than to bury myself into her and take her right in this tub with Sam and Bobby downstairs. It had been way too long. Reaching into the water, I hooked my hand under her calf and wrapped it around my waist as I dipped my head to take her lips once again.

* * *

_A loud droning wail of the heart monitor wailed in my ears as I delivered compressions to Abigail's chest. I was already on my second set, blinking back tears. _This wasn't happening._ I thought. _Not you.

"_Abs, don't do this to me." I ground out as I stopped my second set, praying to the heart monitor that it would find some kind of rhythm. The loud wail of the machine infuriated me further, and I began another set of thirty compressions. This round, I felt her ribs pop from the strain. It nauseated the thought of her ribs breaking, but it had to be done. I wasn't giving up on her. Not now, not ever._

_The door to her room burst open as a group of nurses and doctors rushed in with a crash cart._

* * *

I jerked away from Abigail, breathing heavily. My hands were firmly planted on either side of the cast-iron tub, white-knuckling it until I thought I bent it. Abigail was underneath me, gazing up with a confused expression.

"Dean?" she asked, "What—what's goin' on?"

I swallowed, looking around us. We were still in the tub. Silently, I swiped my hand across my face, "Nothing…" I muttered, lowering myself back into the water. Abigail reached up taking my face in her hands with such tenderness and kissed me. I forced down the urge to get out of the tub and go back to work on the Impala, but that wouldn't be fair to Abigail.

My right hand entangled itself in her hair, our tongues mingling with our hot breath as we pulled one another closer and closer, wanting more. I felt her hands move from my face, down my chest and stomach until they landed on my belt where they were fumbling to get it undone.

* * *

_The shrill squeal of the defibrillator and a loud thump accompanied each other while Abigail's body arched up. I ran my hands through my hair, helpless. I couldn't do anything to help her. _

_"All clear," the doctor said as the shrill squeal of the defibrillator began charging and Abigail's body arched up once again. This was Tawas Bay all over again. Sam had rushed down the hall, stopping beside me, and began fidgeting nervously. Abigail wasn't going to just give up—it was uncharacteristic of her! _

_"Still no pulse." A nurse said while another nurse behind her head squeezed an AMBU bag._

_"Abs, no." I heard Sam whisper, distraught on the scene unfolding before us._

_The doctor nodded, "Okay, let's go again, 360." He placed the two pads together and placed them on her bare chest._

_"Charging." She told him. I closed my eyes, desperately wishing that this was some fucked up nightmare. "All clear!" The nurse unhooked the bag away from her mouth._

_"Clear!" Said the nurse. And I saw her body arch up again. Nothing._

_"Come on, come on," muttered her doctor, determined to bring her back. I felt tears forming slowly in my eyes. _She's gonna be okay, _I told myself. _

_"Still no pulse." The blaring of the monitors going off as well as a steady tone on her heart monitor made me wanna puke. The nursed hooked the AMBU bag back and started squeezing—forcing oxygen into Abigail's lungs._

_"All clear!"_

_"Clear!" shouted the nurse as everyone stepped away from her. Her body rose up even higher than the last couple of times. I flinched as I saw this happen and I felt my heart pause the moment her monitor paused from the shock. I ran my hands through my hair as I slowly was stepping away as I watched helplessly while they tried to revive her._

_"Nothing." said the nurse._

_"Okay, let's go again." said the doctor. I took a moment to thank him quietly, grateful that he wasn't going to give up on her._

_"Clear." said the nurse, as her doctor shocked her once again. Nothing. _

"_Come on, Abs," I whispered, "Please, don't. Not you." I glanced to Sam seeing him watch everything as tears flowed freely down his face, staining his cheeks. _Come on.

_"No change, starting CPR," announced her doctor, handing the paddles to the nurse by the crash cart, beginning chest compressions on her. As the nurse behind Abigail's head hooked the AMBU bag to her breathing tube, I slid down the wall outside and I could feel my body shake. My hands trembled as I moved them up to my mouth, and I could see Sam's back just shuddering. _God, please. Don't you dare take her from me_._

_"Still nothing." said the nurse, after taking her pulse._

_I narrowed my eyes to at the nurse. She needed to shut the fuck up. I didn't need a newsflash that my girlfriend is dying right before me. A stray tear managed to escape, leaving a trail down my face. My chest was tightening up as I let out a small choke, hanging my head. Then, her heart monitors had slowed down into a steady rhythm._

_"We have a pulse." The head nurse in my room said, "We're back into sinus rhythm."_

_I shot my head up to see her monitor normal, looking over to the doctor who was smiling-relieved. _The son of a bitch actually did it; he brought her back_. _

* * *

I reeled back running my hand down my face, "I can't." I said quickly.

"What? Why?" I heard Abigail question, bewildered.

I shook my head, slinging water everywhere, "I'm sorry, Abs, I just—I just can't. Not now." I got out of the tub and grabbed a blood red towel, walking back to the tub and helped Abigail stand while I wrapped the towel around her exposed body.

"Dean, what's goin' on?" She asked me, worried. Wordlessly, I picked her up bridal style—the both of us soaked to the bone. Walking out into the hallway, I took her to our room, setting her down gently on the bed.

_Why was this now happening? Why now?_ I hung my head, ashamed that I had stopped thing completely. Abigail cupped my face, and pulled herself up to kiss me again. I knew what she wanted, and for fuck's sake, I wanted her just as bad. Pulling away, I gazed down at her guiltily, "Get some rest, then we'll try this again later." I could almost hear her heart shatter when I rested my forehead against hers before I tucked her in, gave her another kiss, and left the room, closing the door behind me. I leaned against it for a moment, closing my eyes when I heard her start sniffling.

I didn't know if we were going to be okay after this.

* * *

**Next up-_Bloodlust!_ I hope you guys enjoyed the second part to _Everybody Loves a Clown, _again, this was an unintentional two parter, but there was so many thing going on between everyone that it needed to be a two parter. **

**I'd love to thank _Ladysunshine6_ for lending some help with writing a few scenes and adding in a few things, as well as giving suggestion as to what I wrote. It was actually her idea for the tub scene and for Dean to have flashbacks of them resuscitating her Abigail-talk about a mood killer! So not all credit is going to me, but to her as well!**

**I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. The 'tub scene' was inspired by the move "The Fountain". All credit goes to the respected franchise. ****I would absolutely die if fanfiction .net took this down for my stupidity.**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! If this chapter came out a little jumpy between POVs or awkward in some places, let me know so I can get to it as quickly as possible! Let me know how I'm doing!**

* * *

**The song for this chapter-_ Never Too Late_ by Three Days Grace**

* * *

\- **Thank you! Well, I guess we can say that he's not angry anymore, but...can we say he's a little more guilty?**

**grapejuice101\- Thank you so much! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! I try to get them out as quickly as I can!**

**giddyfan\- I don't think we like flirty Jo, but hey, at least Dean told her he was involved and then added to it! **

**Guest\- Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**angelicedg\- Oh yeah! Can you say mini-Winchester already has him wrapped around her finger? We'll see down the road what we have in store for Ellen!**

**peygoodwin\- Awe, thank you!**

**SassyGrl23\- I think we all do! He kinda reverts into a bratty kid, but also retains his overprotective dad status.**


	6. Bloodlust

_All of my hate cannot be bound_

_I will not be drowned by your thoughtless scheming_

_So you can try to tear me down_

_Beat me to the ground_

_I will see you screaming_

* * *

_**August 25**__**th**__**, 2006**_

_**Open Road—Day **_

A warm August breeze rolled in through the open windows of the newly restored Impala, bringing in all kinds of smells. From outside, the earthy smell of the dust and grass mixed with the smell of the hot blacktop brought a wave of nostalgia through all of us—it brought back all forms of memories; good and bad. From within the Impala, a comforting leathery smell came from the newly upholstered seats as well as the small wafts of cologne from both of the boys.

Blasting over of the roar of the engine, which was fitting for the mood we were in, was _Back in Black_ by AC/DC. Up front, Dean was behind the wheel, grooving along to the music while Sam sat in his usual spot as shotgun, and I was lying on my back with my bare feet hanging out of the window and my arms folded behind my head like I always done during the warm, summer months. Granted, it was the most relaxed I had been since, well, everything went to hell in a hand basket.

"Whoo!" Dean exclaimed from up front as we barreled down a two-lane road, "Listen to her purr! Have you ever heard anything so sweet?" I rose up from the backseat seeing him grinning from ear to ear.

"You know, if you two wanna get a room, just let me and Sammy know, Dean." I offered with a playful smirk, catching Sam's lips spread out into a grin.

"Oh, don't listen to her, baby." Dean leaned forward to stroke the dashboard lovingly, "They don't understand us."

Sam let out a laugh, "You're in a good mood." Dean looked over at him with an honest-to-goodness, smile. I had to agree with Sam, because I didn't feel a twinge of guilt or sadness from him.

"Why shouldn't I be?" He asked with a frown.

"No reason." Sam said with a shrug.

"Got my car, got a case, got one of my girls with me," His hand left the steering wheel and reached behind his head to take mine in his, "while my other girl gained another pound," His eyes flickered up into the rearview mirror, twinkling, "little brother, things are looking up for us."

I felt an unsettling twinge in my gut. My cellphone felt like a brick, urging me to call and check on my daughter. We hadn't been gone a couple of hours.

"Wow... Give you a couple of severed heads and a pile of dead cows and you're Mister Sunshine." I added. They were all smiles.

Dean chuckled, running his thumb across my knuckles, "How far to Red Lodge?" he asked, letting go of my hand so I could look.

I retracted my legs from out of the window to sit up in the seat, picking up a map that was in the floor, "Uh, about another three hundred miles."

Dean grinned, "Good." The Impala lurched forward with a roar as he gunned it, letting the newly rebuilt car's horses run.

* * *

_**Red Lodge, Montana**_

_**Sheriff's Office—Day**_

"The murder investigation is ongoing, and that's all I can share with the press at this time." Said a gruff, heavy-set sheriff with an impressive mustache. It was so big, that it almost covered his lips, which also put me in the mind of a heavy-set Sam Elliott. I pursed my lips in amusement at the thought. Sam, Dean, and I had posed as reporters other than our usual getups of impersonating an FBI agent or an officer.

"That's understandable, sir." I said with a smile, "but just for the record, you found the first, uh, head last week, correct?" The Sheriff nodded to me from behind his desk, letting out a grunt, "Okay, and the other—a, uh, Christina Flannigan."

"That was two days ago. Is there –" We twisted around when a young woman knocked on the door behind us, pointing to her watch. "Oh." He looked to us with a nod, "Sorry, time's up. We're done here."

"One last question–" Sam said quickly as the sheriff rose from his black, leather seat to show us out.

"What about the cattle?" Dean asked shifting in his seat.

The sheriff focused on Dean with a hard, disbelieving look, "Excuse me?"

"You know, the cows found dead, split open, drained—over a dozen cases." Dean jogged his memory, though the bushy mustached sheriff still held an incredulous look.

"What about them?" He prompted.

"So you don't think there's a connection?" I questioned.

"Connection ... _with_...?" I glanced over to Dean and Sam. This poor soul wouldn't have known a connection if it bit him in the ass.

"First cattle mutilations, now two murders?" Sam elaborated for him, "Kinda sounds like ritual stuff."

"You know, like satanic cult ritual stuff?" Dean added. The sheriff busted out laughing, which was probably the only thing the three of us were able to get out of him. I frowned at the man's disdainful laughter, feeling his contempt come in waves. I met Sam and Dean's miffed looks before his laughter died out.

"You - you're not kidding." He realized after us not joining in.

Dean shook his head, his face a deadpan, "No." We were dead serious.

The sheriff cleared his throat, "Those cows aren't being mutilated. You wanna know how I know?"

"How?" Sam humored him.

"Because there's no such thing as cattle mutilation. Cow drops, leave it in the sun, within forty eight hours the bloat'll split it open so clean it's just about surgical." He explained, "The bodily fluids fall down into the ground and get soaked up because that's what gravity does. But, hey, it could be Satan." I pressed my lips into a thin line to avoid laughing. "What newspaper did you say you work for?"

"World Weekly News..." Dean said.

"Weekly World News." Sam corrected him quickly. I grimaced at their mistake. Now as probably a good time to leave.

"World—" Dean stumbled over his words.

"Weekly World—" Sam interrupted. They glanced at each other worriedly. I grabbed them both by the sleeves of their jackets and laughed nervously.

"They're new." I defended with a weak smile. My hands clenched around their arms, pinching them and they jumped, nodding.

"Get out of my office." The sheriff told us pointedly.

Dean saluted, while I drug them both out, and didn't look back. A few hours in and we almost botched the hunt. Outside, Dean looked down at the newspaper with furrowed brows. "World Weekly News…" He shook his head, "World _Weekly_ News...wait, Weekly World News?" He asked, looking over at me confused. I shrugged, patting him on the shoulder sympathetically, "This is confusing…" He muttered, tucking the paper underneath his arm.

"Don't hurt yourself, sweetheart." I commented leaning on the side of the Impala, "So, where to next?"

"The, uh, morgue." Sam said.

"Oh, joy_._" I muttered, running my hand through my hair.

"Ah, can't be a princess all your life, sweetheart." Dean joked, patting my buttocks playfully as he passed by. I jumped slightly at the gesture, since you know, that had been the closest thing to an intimate touch from him since his pins and needles busted loose. I blushed like a schoolgirl seeing him look over his shoulder, winking.

* * *

_**Hospital—Day**_

Dressed in the same attire from the sheriff's office, a white lab coat had become my newest accessory—aside from the quick and neat sock bun and pair of reading glasses—as Sam and Dean followed behind me. Dean, however, was being Dean. Walking into the morgue, the intern on duty with a name tag that reads J. Manners was checking charts. I stopped in front of the desk, and since Dean was paying attention to _other_ things, he about run into me if Sam hadn't pulled him to a stop.

I smiled at him, "John."

"Jeff," he corrected, smiling in return.

I laughed coyly, "Jeff, my mistake." From behind me, Dean rolled his eyes, "Pulled an all-nighter, so I'm a little slow. Dr. Dworkin needs to see you in his office right away."

Jeff swallowed hard, glancing down at me, "But Dr. Dworkin's on vacation." He said, confused.

I clicked my tongue, "Well, he's back…and between you, me, and the campers here," I leaned forward, "He's pissed." He reeled back, blanching.

"And he's screaming for you, man." Dean then added, "So if I were you, I would…" Jeff had already ran out the door before Dean managed to finish his sentence. We all watched for a second before jumping into business mode.

"Okay, then." I said moving to the box of latex gloves, "Those Satanists in Florida, they marked their victims, didn't they?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah, reversed pentacle on the forehead." He pulled on the pair I gave him, then reached Dean a pair.

"Yeah. So much fucked up shit happens in Florida." Dean muttered, pulling on his pair of gloves, and made the latex slap against his skin. Sam helped me open a compartment and wheeled out a corpse with a box between its legs. Due to the status of the beheaded corpse, the box had to contain the victim's head.

We all stood there staring at the box, and Dean nudged Sam, "Alright, open it."

Sam nudged him back, "You open it."

I rolled my eyes at them, "Pussies." I muttered to the both of them, picking up the ten pound box and carried it over to another table, flipping off the lid. I grimaced, feeling my stomach flop all over the place, "Yummy." I said sarcastically when Dean and Sam came up behind me, peering over my shoulders to see the head and cringed.

"Well, no pentagram." Dean said quickly, grossed-out.

"Wow." Sam breathed out, "Poor girl."

"You ain't kiddin'." I muttered.

Dean cleared his throat, "Maybe we should, uh, you know," he inclined his head to the side just a hair, "look in her mouth, and see if those wackos stuffed anything down her throat." He turned to me with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "You know, kinda like the moth in _Silence of the Lambs_."

I took the box and slid it over him, "Yeah, here, go ahead."

Dean pushed it back to me, "Nah, you go ahead. You packed it over here." When I didn't budge, we looked to Sam.

"What?" he asked innocently. Dean and I pushed the box to him.

"_Put the lotion in the basket_." I snickered at Dean's impersonation of Billy the Kid.

Sam scoffed, "Right, yeah, I'm the pussy, huh? Whatever." It took him a moment to steel himself at his gruesome task ahead, and inserted his fingers into the mouth. Dean and I scrunched our faces at him, though, I spotted a trashcan nearby. You know, for good measures, "Dean, get me a bucket?"

"You find something?" He asked, curiously.

Sam shook his head, "No, I'm going to puke."

I furrowed my brows, seeing something, "Wait." Dean and Sam looked to me as I motioned for him to move the head my way. He didn't hesitate. I hunkered down to the level of the woman's mouth and lifted up her lip. "Well, I'll be damned."

Dean saw it too, "What is that, a hole?" he asked as I pressed above the hole, and a narrow, sharp tooth descended.

"It's a tooth." Sam breathed out. I shook my head, taking my left hand to hold up more of the girl's lip.

"Correction: _Fangs_." I said, taking my right index, middle, and ring fingers, pressing certain areas on the gum line, and several narrow, pointed teeth jutted out, "Retractable set of vampire fangs."

Dean groaned, "You gotta be kidding me."

Sam blew out a breath of air, "Well, this changes things." I straightened up, hearing my knees pop loudly.

"Ya think?" Dean asked with a sarcastic look.

I fixed the dead vampire's mouth, setting it back into the box it was in, and packed it back over to it's body, "We need to leave." Sam helped me wheel the body back into the compartment, then the three of us peeled our gloves off. We were all uneasy, "Guys, my spidey senses are goin' off. I don't like this, we should head back to the motel and find some more things out, ya know?"

Dean and Sam glanced at each other, "Yeah, that would be good start to something." Dean said with a definitive nod. We hightailed it out of the morgue in our stolen white coats, tossing them into the back of the Impala before the intern Jeff realized he'd been duped.

* * *

_**Adobe Motel—Day**_

Dean sat on our bed with multiple weapons laid out, cleaning them while Sam sat on his bed with his laptop. I stepped out from the bathroom taking my hair down from the sock bun. Comfortable, I slid in behind Dean and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. He leaned into me with a pleased grin gracing his features.

"Y'know, those jackets would come in handy later on." Dean told me in a low tone, waggling his brows suggestively at me. I laughed lightly at him.

"I'll hold you to it, _Doctor_." I replied, seeing him puff out a little.

Sam looked up at us from the laptop with a faux-glare, "You two realize I'm here, right?" Dean and I peered over at him with smug looks, meeting his smile.

"Yeah, we know." Dean replied in a casual tone. We were in good spirits other than me being spooked by another hunter being in close proximity of us. I ran my hand through Dean's hair when he leaned forward to resume cleaning our weapons, raking my nails against his scalp and he shivered. He twisted around with a sharp look—for the record, it was a pout—and I smiled at him sheepishly, allowing him to continue what he was doing.

"So someone's already here, killing vampires, huh?" Sam said.

Dean grunted, "Well, whatever it is, it doesn't matter. You've still gotta smoke the nest, whether we find our mystery guest or not."

"I suppose." Sam shrugged, glancing over to me.

"Any luck with that address with Christine Flanagan?"

Sam's lips formed a thin line as he shook his head, "Nah, just a PO Box. And guess what?" I raised my brows at him to continue, "Same with the first victim."

In front of me, Dean started to laugh at himself, shaking his head while he reassembled my pistol, "Victim." He said, "Hoo, that's," His shoulders began to shake from laughing, "That's—that's…" Dean met Sam's bitchface, then looked over at me and his laughter subsided. He cleared his throat, "Funny."

"You know what, Dean, they both got hired six months ago." Sam stated, unimpressed by Dean's lightheartedness.

"Yeah?"

I blinked, furrowing my brows slightly, "Six months." I stated, "I mean, doesn't that seem long to you? Weren't the last vampires we tangled with migratory?"

Dean pursed his lips at the thought of it, "Well, if you think about it, I mean, they could get a job, they could blend in, you know?" He lifted his shoulders, "Nobody's gonna suspect the cute waitress at the diner, right? So, they get enough people, they bleed 'em in the nest, it's an all-you-can-eat buffet." He hypothesized.

Sam's eyes swiveled from his brother, then to me, "_Yeah_, okay. But ... the missing persons stats around here are average. Hell, they're actually below average."

"Well, maybe they're grabbing their takeout from someplace else. I don't really care." He grinned at his brother, "All I know is—I get to kill some vampires." Sam looked away, shaking his head in displeasure. Dean furrowed his brows at him, confused, and twisted around to look at me.

"What?" He asked. I shrugged at him, this wasn't going to be my argument.

Sam sighed, "Look, don't get me wrong, alright? I'm happy you're happy. I'm happy that Abigail's here with us, and she's happy…sort of." I inclined my head at him, understanding what he meant. Which was fine. "But don't you think that, with everything that happened to Dad, you're just acting a little too…" Sam paused, trying to find the right word.

"Caffeinated?" I asked, and Sam nodded.

"Yeah. Caffeinated." He replied.

Dean snorted at us, "I'm enjoying my work, guys. Ya'll oughta try it sometime." I rolled my eyes at him, swatting the back of his head. Dean jumped slightly at the gesture, turning at me with a scrunched up face, "What?"

"Nothing." I said to him. "If we do anythin', we should probably head to the bar…you know, see if the locals have heard or seen anythin' out of the ordinary. Ya'll know how vamps get."

* * *

_**Bar—Night**_

"Thanks, Ashley. I appreciate it." I hung up, chewing on the end of my antenna for a moment out of anxiety. Around me in the parking lot were several patrons; some sober, some completely three sheets to the wind, drunk. Aside from the smell of gasoline and exhaust fumes, I fidgeted like some tweaker waiting for his next fix. This was the longest I had _ever_ been away from Megan, and it was slowly taking it's toll on me. Dean came up behind me, wrapping me in his arms and pressed his lips to the back of my neck, raising goose bumps across my body.

"How's Meg?" He murmured, slowly turning me around to face him.

I shrugged, "She's been fussy. Didn't sleep much today, and she's been spittin' up." Dean's brows knitted together out of concern when I pulled my bottom lip in to chew on it, "She's missin' us." I muttered, averting my eyes to the Impala's rear wheel, "I should've stayed behind."

"Hey." His calloused hands cupped my face tenderly. I closed my eyes against his touch, feeling guilt creep from him to me, "Abigail, Megan's fine. We'll be back with her in no time. I figured it'd be good for you to get out and stretch your legs, since well, the last time didn't blow over well."

I grimaced at the memory of our not-so-distant knockdown drag-out, "Yeah. I know…" My left hand was still tender from the large cut, causing me to flex it a couple of times. Dean's eyes dropped to my hand with a frown.

"Look, I didn't mean to do what I did…" He began, taking my hand in his, and over turned it to expose the healing cut. Around it was an angry red, making him grimace. I could almost hear him say, _I did that to her._

"It's fine, Dean." I cut him off with a strained smile, "Really. It was just one of our usual knockdown-drag outs."

His face twisted into a look of shame, licking his lips, "No, this wasn't. I've _never_ put my hands on you like that, Abigail. This—" He held up my hand, "—shouldn't have happened."

I then took my hand away from his, placing it on the side of his face, and felt the stubble scratch my palm, "I'm. Fine." He scoffed, "I'm bein' serious, Dean. I'm not some wounded animal, I'm not made of porcelain. I can take a hit."

"Not from me." He murmured, hanging his head out of shame, "Grade-A douchebag." I lifted his face gently, seeing those hazel orbs of his swirl with guilt.

"Well, you're my douchebag," I told him smiling softly, "and we have a kid. So, we're gonna take hits from each other every now an' then. Hell, we've seen worse." My shoulders lifted in a small shrug, then slowly reached up to pull his amulet out from his shirt. His head bowed, watching what I did with a fragile look in his eyes. I kept the brass head in between my thumb and index finger, when he reached up, encasing my hand in his and pressed his lips against my knuckles.

"I don't see what you see in me, Abs…" Dean breathed out. I felt a painful squeeze in my chest at his words. He shook his head, keeping the fragile look in his eyes, "but whatever it is you do see, I'm just glad you chose me."

I smiled softly, "Me too." I rose up on my tiptoes and kissed his lips. We lingered in a soft, reassuring kiss that was seemingly trying to piece back several shattered pieces of our relationship after John had died. It wasn't much, but it was there. The tiniest of touches or an embrace that took longer than most—that's what made me feel reassured that we were going to be okay. However, if Dean spoke and tried to reassure me…it wasn't reassuring at all. I felt his pain and suffering of something other than just him slamming me against the Impala. It was crushing, like the Empire State Building sat on my chest.

Despite the need to frown, I pulled back forcing myself to smile weakly at him, to reassure that I was okay. It seemed to do the trick since a small flutter of appeasement flourished in my stomach. It stood out from the fifty other emotions I felt from outside of the bar, not counting whatever I felt from all around me. It was a crushing weight—that was until Dean leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine.

"What would I do without you?" He asked in the lightest voice.

I took his face in my hands with a small smile tugging at my lips, "Crash and burn." I replied, and a smile broke out across his face.

"You might be onto somethin', babe." Dean tipped his head to kiss me again, this time, deep and playful before he pulled back, "C'mon, Sammy's probably thinking something dirty." he said with a boyish grin, throwing his arm over my shoulder.

Inside the bar, the oddly comforting odor of alcoholic beverages and cigarettes clung in the air as we made our way to bar once spotting our taller than average brother.

Dean nodded to the bartender, "How's it going?"

"Living the dream." He replied, "What can I get for you?"

"Three beers, please." Dean told him, setting down a twenty in front of the bartender.

"So, we're looking for some people." Sam said, earning a smirk from the man.

"Sure. Hard to be lonely." He said, and Sam frowned. Dean and I pursed our lips in amusement. He always fell for that kind of stuff.

"Yeah. But um, that's not what I meant." I noticed Sam pull out a fifty from his pocket, considering something, and dropped it on the bar carelessly. The bartender looked at it, then took it, "Right. So these, these people, they would have moved here about six months ago, probably pretty rowdy, like to drink..."

"Yeah, real night owls, you know?" I asked, earning a questioning look from him. Something was off about him…I could sense it, "Sleep all day, party all night?"

"Barker farm got leased out a couple months ago. Real winners." He explained, "They've been in here a lot - drinkers. Noisy. I've had to 86 them once or twice."

"Thanks." Dean said as we parted ways with out half-finished beers on the table. Over every patron, I felt eyes on us the entire time we spoke to the bartender. Outside, I scraped the bottom of my shoe against the pavement, earning looks from Sam and Dean.

"I've got gum on my shoe." I said, seeing their knowing looks.

"You've got the shittiest luck with your shoes, Abs." Dean joked when I fell back into place between them. We took a turn down an alleyway and into the parking lot, waiting for whoever was trailing us to mess up. Dean pulled me behind a car, pressing his finger to my lips. I nodded, seeing Sam duck behind another car nearby when a pair of footsteps could be heard.

My eyes flitted to the darkened alleyway, eyes narrowing with anticipation. Whoever was following us caused a knot to form in my stomach. The feeling I got from that significant person made me want to punch someone in the throat or hunt someone down. I couldn't even think about my own feelings—just theirs.

Out from the shadows, an African-American man stepped out looking around the parking lot with his back turned to us. From beside me, Dean's jaw muscle clenched, glancing over to me for verification. I nodded, signaling that's who had been on our tails. Both Sam and Dean were apprehensive—poised like predators waiting for the right moment to jump. Sam glanced over to us, ready.

When the man hesitated, they stalked out just as he turned around with Dean pinning him to the wall and a knife held at his throat.

"Smile." Dean growled out.

"What?" The man asked, looking confused. I stepped out from behind the car, seeing his eyes flicker to me—Dean shoved him harder, eyes narrowing at him.

"Show us those pearly whites." Dean elaborated.

The man rolled his eyes at us, "Oh, for the love of - you want to stick that thing someplace else? I'm not a vampire." Sam frowned and the man smirked, "Yeah, that's right. I heard you guys in there."

I crossed my arms, keeping a safe distance from him, "What do you know about vampires?"

"How to kill them." He replied throwing Dean a look, "Now seriously, bro. That knife's making me itch." Dean tilted his head at him, unmoving. That was until the man began to pull away and Sam took his turn to pin the man, "Whoa. Easy there, _Chachi_." As a gesture of surrender, he slowly brought his hand to his lip, pulling it back to reveal normal gums—no signs of elongated, narrow fangs.

He turned his eyes on me, "See? Fangless." He looked back to Dean and Sam when they let up, standing in front of me protectively, "Now. Who the hell are you three?"

* * *

In short, we learned that this man's name is Gordon Walker. Obviously, he's a hunter, and judging by his arsenal in the red El Camino, he was a good one—had the right stuff.

"Sam and Dean Winchester." He mused, "And Abigail Colt. I can't believe it." I glanced over to Dean and Sam, shifting uneasily. I didn't like this man, "You know I met your old man once? Hell of a guy." Gordon pulled out a metal sheet containing a variety of weapons. I sucked in my cheek, holding it in between my teeth at a stab of pain in my chest, it was doubled by Dean and Sam. In silence, I waited until it dissipated. "Great hunter. I heard he passed. I'm sorry." His eyes fell on me, holding my gaze for a moment, "Met your folks some years ago, too…damn good hunters. Ya'll have some big shoes. But from what I hear, you guys fill 'em. Great trackers, good in a tight spot –"

Dean held a mistrustful gaze on Gordon, seemingly wary about how he knew so much about us, "You seem to know a lot about our family."

Gordon straightened up, "Word travels fast. You know how hunters talk."

The three of us frowned at that. Apparently we were the headlines of some kind of newspaper that went around, and we had no idea about it. "No, we don't, actually."

"I guess there's a lot your dad never told you, huh?" Gordon said, looking over to Dean. His jaw was set.

"So, um, so those two vampires, they were yours, huh?" Sam asked, changing the subject to avoid another confrontation that might've ended up in Gordon getting his ass kicked.

Gordon nodded, "Yep. Been here two weeks." _He was way too proud about his kills._

I licked my lips, "Did you check out that Barker farm?"

"It's a bust. Just a bunch of hippie freaks. Though they could kill you with that patchouli smell alone." Gordon's lips quirked at his joke, though no one smiled. His arrogance was about to send me into fits!

"Where's the nest, then?" I inquired, fully intended on leaving dust in this guy's face.

Gordon smiled patronizingly at my question, "I got this one covered." He shoved the metal sheet back behind his sheet, "Look, don't get me wrong. It's a real pleasure meetin' you fellas. But I've been on this thing over a year. I killed a fang back in Austin, tracked the nest all the way up here. I'll finish it."

_Well, that was the end of that_. I thought smugly, as my own eagerness bubbled up to head back to South Dakota.

"We could help." Dean said quickly.

_Wait, what?!_ I gawked at him in disbelief, looking over to Sam who appeared to be surprised at Dean.

"Thanks, but uh, I'm kind of a go-it-alone type of guy." Gordon said tightly.

It unnerved me at how quick Dean was becoming, "Come on, man, I've been itching for a hunt."

"Sorry. But hey, I hear there's a Chupacabra two states over. You go ahead and knock yourselves out." He sunk into the driver's seat of the El Camino, "It was real good meeting you, though. I'll buy you a drink on the flip side." Starting the car, he drove off, leaving us behind. Just like that.

I silently thanked him, hoping that this little 'encounter' gave Dean a hint that this wasn't our day. "Wanna find another hunt?" I asked when I took noticed of his eyes remaining fixed on the red car until it was out of sight.

"No, we're following him." He said, determined. His jaw was working his jaw oddly. I almost groaned out of displeasure, _knowing_ that look in his eyes. It was like Gordon basically called out his ability as a hunter. And so, we were hunting vamps.

* * *

_**Mill—Night**_

We tracked Gordon to a quiet lumber mill. There was several different scents by the lumber there—the crisp, evergreen smell of pine, the smoky, woodsy odor of hickory, and the pungent, refreshing smell of cedar—filled my nose. No one seemed to be around, seeing how the workers had returned home for the day, leaving an empty shell of a building. It had some wear and tear on the exterior that was for sure.

Getting out of the Impala, Dean looked to both Sam and I, "Stay out of sight until things go south, got it?"

I pursed my lips at him in a disapproving manner. I did _not_ like this new outlook Dean had. I scrubbed my nose a moment, and inhaled sharply. "Crystal." I answered for the both of us. Dean held his gaze on mine, assessing me, and nodded in approval.

"Alright then, let's go."

Inside, sounds of a fight echoed through the empty mill. It was simple to tell who was who, but the similarities of what I felt was astonishing. There was animosity and revenge—that had to be Gordon. Then there was animosity and something else—that had to be the vampire. With Dean in the lead, I fell in beside him, ready to pound something into the ground…to _kill_ unflinchingly.

Finding Gordon as he confronted the vampire, it was easy to see that he was getting his ass kicked. The grating sound of a saw being switched on rang out when the vampire had pinned Gordon down below it. Sam got to Gordon first, pulling him away to safety while Dean and I attacked the vampire. It reared up, fang fully extended in a snarl with the intention of killing us. Somewhere in the back of my mind, something latched onto that murderous intent.

Dean picked up a roof bolt, swinging it. With a pleasing crack, Dean's blow connected nicely on the side of the vamp's head. Unflinching, I found a hook of some kind—perhaps used to pick up small logs—and swung it like a bat, the metal hook meeting the abdomen of the vampire with a sickening squelch. The thing howled out in pain, falling onto the board below the saw, not phasing me or Dean in the least.

Closer to the saw, I reached up, taking the saw's handle in my hands as Dean punched the vampire a few times for good measure, then stepped back when I brought the saw down on the vampire. I didn't give it time to make a sound, for the exception of the blade slicing through meat and bones. Blood sprayed whoever was in the vicinity of the saw—me and Dean. I let up on the saw, staring down at the decapitated mess with morbid satisfaction, meeting Dean's mutually satisfied gaze. We glanced at each other, taking in our bloodied features. Maybe this was needed after all.

Gordon and Sam stood a good few yards away, watching our display, "So, uh, I guess I gotta buy you that drink." He said, looking anything but repulsed like Sam.

* * *

_**Bar—Night**_

I sat in between Sam and Dean, suddenly quiet. I felt repulsed by what happened down at the mill, hell, I felt fucking dirty—even with a new change of clothes on. Dean had his hand on my thigh while he took another drink of beer, setting down the now empty bottle. This was Sam and Dean's second round…I was on my first still. I wasn't in the mood, nor did I want to accompany Gordon on our 'job well done'.

When the waitress came back to our table, Dean's hand left my thigh and reached for his wallet to pay her once she set down their beers, only for Gordon to wave him dismissively, "No, no. I got it."

"Come on." Dean disagreed.

Gordon held up a finger at him as he fingered through a few bills, "I insist." He set two tens on the tray, "Thank you, sweetie." I shifted uncomfortably at that, withholding an urge to get up and slap him. He was just skeevy. Nothing he said sat well with me at all, "Another one bites the dust."

Dean grinned, "That's right." They took their shots while Sam and I sat back with our arms folded, clearly unimpressed.

"Abby, Dean." Gordon laughed out, eyes glimmering in the dim light, "You two gave that big-ass fang one hell of a pounding, my friend."

Dean smiled and nodded, practically _basking_ in his praise, "Thank you."

"I don't mean to be the buzzkill, but, I don't like bein' called that." I said coolly, earning a quick look from Dean and Sam, "No _offense_." I needed to get up and move around or I was going to go mental. Gordon nodded.

"Understandable, makes you out to be underestimated by the others." He said with a grin, "Back at the mill—that was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful." I had to look away.

"You two alright?" Dean asked suddenly. I glanced over to see Sam with a sour look on his face, then met Dean's inquired gaze.

"Yeah," I replied, nudging Sam in the side when he made no word.

"I'm fine." Sam grunted out. Dean nodded, returning to the celebration.

Gordon chuckled, "Well, lighten up a little, Sammy." It suddenly got quiet in there, as in, you could almost hear a pin drop. Sam's eyes narrowed at him.

"They're the only ones who get to call me that." Sam replied brusquely, implying Dean and I. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch into a smirk.

_Do I look smug_? I thought, _Cause I sure as hell felt like it._

Gordon raised his hands in surrender, "Okay. No offense meant." His eyes went to me, then to Dean uneasily, "Just celebrating a little. Job well done."

"Right. Well, decapitations aren't my idea of a good time, I guess." He muttered when Dean's eyes narrowed in frustration.

"Oh, come one, man, it's not like it was human." Gordon replied, "You've gotta have a little more fun with your job, like your brother and your sister." I stiffened. _Fun?_ _That wasn't _fun.

Dean chuckled, completely agreeing with him, "See? That's what I've been trying to tell him." He leaned forward to see Sam, "You could learn a thing or two from this guy." Sam scoffed, offended at Dean.

I patted Sam on the shoulder, "Look, we're gonna head back to the motel…" Dean's eyes widened, seeming to be a little shocked, "Just…enjoy yourselves."

"You sure?" Dean rubbed his eyes tiredly.

Sam nodded, "Yeah."

Dean looked to me once more, "Abs, come on."

I stared at him for a long moment, unwavering, "I'm tired, and I have to make a call." Dean's mouth clamped shut, knowing what I meant, and nodded, handing the keys to me, "Remind me to beat that buzzkill out of Sammy later, alright?" He muttered to me, encasing my hand in his a second longer. As much as I wanted stay because of that touch, or laugh at his little quip, I simply nodded.

I gestured to the door, "C'mon, _Sammy_." Sam reached out his arm, allowing me to lace my arm through his like we were going to prom, and left the bar.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

Gordon turned back to me as we watched Abigail and Sam leave, "Something I said?" He asked.

"Nah," I said shaking my head, "He just gets that way sometimes." _Abs was another story_.

"What about _Abs_?" He prompted. I mentally cringed at the mention of _my_ personal nickname, knowing without a doubt, Abigail would've jumped onto him again.

"Tell you what," I changed the subject, "Match you quarters for the next round." Gordon readily agreed, his prompt about Abigail was quickly lost. It wasn't after the third or fourth round we started to exchange hunting stories.

"So. I pick up this crossbow. And I hit that ugly sucker with a silver-tipped arrow right in his heart." I recounted my first experience with a werewolf, "Sammy's waiting in the car, and uh, Abs, me and my dad take the thing into the woods, burn it to a crisp. I'm sitting there and looking into the fire, and I'm thinking to myself, I'm sixteen years old, Abigail's fifteen. Most kids our age are worried about pimples, prom dates. We're seeing things that they'll never even know. Never even dream of. So right then, I just sort of –"

"Embraced the life?" Gordon asked.

I nodded slowly, "Yeah." I admitted, "Abigail was better accustomed to this than I was—she was raised by the absolute best. Burning that thing didn't faze her in the least."

Gordon nodded, "I saw. She seems like a force not be reckoned with."

I smirked at that, "She's actually livelier than what she was tonight."

"Oh, yeah?" He asked.

"Yeah." I nodded a couple of times, "So, how'd you get started?"

"First time I saw a vampire I was barely eighteen. Home alone with my sister. I hear the window break in her room. I grab my dad's gun, run in, try to get it off her. Too late. So I shoot the damn thing. Which of course is about as useful as snapping it with a rubber band. It rushes me, picks me up, flings me across the room, knocks me out cold. When I wake up, the vampire's gone, my sister's gone." Gordon fell quiet, looking down at the table with a thousand yard stare.

I leaned forward, intent on his grim tale, "And then?"

Snapping him out of his memory, his eyes flickered to me, "Then... try explaining that one to your family. So I left home. And then bummed around looking for information: how you track 'em, how you kill 'em. And I found that fang - it was my first kill."

I nodded, "Sorry about your sister."

"Yeah. She was beautiful. I can still see her, you know?" He asked, "The way she was. But hey, that was a long time ago. I mean, your dad. It's gotta be rough."

I held my drink in my hand staring at it's contents quietly with a frown. The void I managed to hole up through many hours of working on the Impala, trying to mend things with Sam and Abigail, and sitting with my daughter just suddenly opened up—gaping like some open wound, "Yeah, you know. He was just one of those guys." I said lightly.

"Took some terrible beatings— just kept coming. So you're always thinking to yourself; _he's indestructible. He'll always be around, nothing can kill my dad_. Then just like that," I snapped my fingers, "He's gone." I sighed heavily at the void in my chest, feeling guilt push through whatever buzz I had. "I can't talk about this to Sammy, you know? I gotta keep my game face on."

Gordon nodded understandingly, "What about Abigail?" He asked.

I cleared my throat, shifting in my seat, "Abs?" I half-laughed, half-scoffed at the thought of her, "We've been through a lot—her and I. To level with you, Abigail's strung out, and—and I can't put any more stress on her. It'll kill her." I reached into my pocket to get my wallet, and flipped it open to show Gordon an image of Abigail, me, and Megan, "That's my pride and joy."

Gordon smiled down at the picture, "She's beautiful."

I chuckled, turning to look at the photograph myself, "Yeah, I think so too. She's in the hospital right now cause of some…monster." _And that was putting it lightly_. My mind wandered off to the recent late nights I stayed up, constantly being woken up to nightmares—seeing her lying in the hospital bed, the sound of the heart monitors blaring, Dad not making it and Abigail's hysterical screams—I understood how she felt about her family's demise, but she never got the chance to express it like she had to my dad's. Looking at just my father's death, there was no change to her after her discharge of the hospital. Abigail reverted back into silence or arguments which created this…wedge between us. I wasn't saying it was all her—I had a part in it as well. My family depended—

"Dean?" I looked up to see Gordon's inquisitive stare blankly, remembering our conversation.

I cleared my throat, "The truth is, I'm not handling it very well. Feel like I have this—"

"Hole inside you?" He cut in with a knowing expression set in his dark eyes, "And it just gets bigger and bigger and darker and darker?" I didn't reply to his question, only nodded. He knew where I was coming from, and he nodded approvingly with a smirk, "Good. You can use it. Keeps you hungry. Trust me. There's plenty out there needs killing, and this'll help you do it. Dean, it's not a crime to need your job."

_His philosophy was a lot different than Abigail and Sam's_, I thought.

"Know why I love this life?" Gordon asked suddenly. I blinked. "It's all black and white. There's no maybe. You find the bad thing, kill it. See, most people spend their lives in shades of gray. Is this right? Is that wrong?" Gordon stared me down, shaking his head with a grin, "Not us."

I chuckled, "Not sure Sammy and Abs would agree with you, but uh..."

"Doesn't seem like your brother's much like us—your girlfriend too. I'm not saying they're wrong." He added quickly upon sensing that he might've overstepped his boundaries with me and seeing my stern look at his assumption of Sam and Abigail. "Just…different. But you and me?" Gordon gestured his hand to himself then to me, "We were born to do this. It's in our blood. Abs, however—"

His lips turned widened, "She's a lot closer to us than Sam is on a lot of things, her daddy and momma taught'er well—too well to be spent on things like a conscience and the rights and wrongs of hunting." Gordon leaned back with his beer in his hand, "She's got a lot of potential to become something great. Hell, her performance there at the mill was evident—she's just sitting on the fence." His shoulders hefted into a shrug, "Abigail just needs a _friendly_ push." I stared at him quietly, considering his words. Maybe he was right on a few things, and wrong about a couple. It was debatable.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Motel—Night**_

Sam slammed the passenger door loudly, "What the hell was that?" Sam asked in an accusing tone, eyes fixed on me as we stepped out of the Impala. I looked to him from across the roof quizzically.

"About what?" I asked.

He scoffed at me, "You know what I'm talking about." He ground out, "At the mill, at the _bar?_" I nodded, folding my hands across the roof, "I mean, it was like, you and Dean went to a completely different level of hunting! Then at the bar, it was like you couldn't even speak. What the _hell_?"

Oh. That. I sucked in a sharp breath, "Sammy, I—" I swallowed down a lump, "I don't know what the hell that was."

His eyes flickered to the night sky in a disbelieving manner, "Yeah, I'm sure you don't."

I blew out a hasty sigh, running my fingers through my hand tiredly, "I'm too tired to argue about this, Sammy…'sides, I don't think you'd understand."

"Then level with me, Abigail!" He exclaimed.

"What happened at the mill?" I kept a firm gaze on him, "At first, I-I wanted to get back on my game, be like what I was before everythin' went to hell, y'know?" The cross look on Sam's face softened, almost understandingly. He still held a stoic, cranky expression, "Then…it was like somethin' in the back of my mind just latched onto everythin' that was goin' on—the vamp, Gordon—_everythin'_…and I went berserk. Like, killin' was the only thing important. Like back in Salvation with the Colt…"

"What you and Dean did—" Sam couldn't even finish his sentence, and I hung my head, pulling my bottom lip in between my teeth to bite it. I couldn't look at him. It was like I failed him too.

"I know it…" I muttered, readily convinced to tell him about what I've been going through. Since coming out of the coma, I've been able to feel too many things; from everyone around me. It just expanded every day, growing farther and farther, and the suppressing weight was immense. I blew out a shaky breath to avoid a burst of tears and emotions to break loose, "Sammy, whatever happened back there at the mill…whatever I felt…" I licked my lips, forcing myself to look at him, "I never want to feel that way again. I don't want to be some kind of monster… not with Megan in the picture now. I don't want her to find me acting like at the mill...ever. I don't want her to grow up hatin' me."

"Hey," Sam frowned, looking upset at my words, "Abigail, you're not a monster. Megan isn't gonna grow up hating you."

"Sammy, I'd rather stay off the job than feel that way again." I muttered, hoisting my shoulders up in a nonchalant shrug. "Whatever Dean and Gordon has goin' on, I want no part of it. I don't trust the fucker," I shook my head, "Not one damn bit."

A look of relief washed over Sam, "You too?"

I nodded, "It's like I can sense that there's somethin' bad about him, like, he's the monster instead of that vampire." Sam suddenly pulled his cellphone out of his coat pocket, "What're you doin'?"

"Calling someone that might help." He said.

"Ellen?" Sam's lips quirked up into a smile.

"Hey, Ellen—Sam Winchester." He said suddenly, the put it on speakerphone.

"_Sam, it's good to hear from you._" Ellen's voice rang out. There was music and chatter in the background—it must've been busy at the Roadhouse, "_You three are okay, aren't you_?"

We glanced at each other, "Yeah." I cleared my throat, "Yeah, everythin's fine. We just, uh, got a question."

"_Yeah, shoot_." Ellen replied.

"You ever run across a guy named Gordon Walker?" Sam asked.

There was a moment of hesitation, "_Yeah, I know Gordon_." Ellen replied nonchalantly.

Sam and I nodded to the phone eagerly for Ellen to continue despite the fact that she couldn't see us, "And?" Sam and I asked in chorus, glancing at our Jinx moment.

"_Well, he's a real good hunter. Why are you asking, sweetie_?"

"Well, we ran into him on a job and we're kinda working with him, I guess." Sam explained, voice flat and full of distaste.

"_Don't do that, guys_." Ellen said quickly, urgency lacing her words. My brows rose at how quick her response was.

"I - I thought you said he was a good hunter." He stammered, confused by Ellen's sudden change.

"_Yeah, and Hannibal Lecter's a good psychiatrist_." She quipped. I tilted my head in an agreeing fashion, earning a look from Sam. I shrugged at him. "_Look, he is dangerous to everyone and everything around him. If he's working on a job you guys just let him handle it and you move on_."

"Ellen—," Sam began, surprised at her urgent tone.

"_No, Sam. You and Abigail, just listen to what I'm telling you, okay_?" We fell silent, troubled that Dean was so hell-bent on working with this man. "_Abigail_, _you hear me?_"

I swallowed, "Right, okay." After a moment of saying our good-byes, Sam and I sat in unrequited silence. This was unbelievable…actually, no it wasn't. Neither of us were handling John's death in the best fashion. He was gone…not coming back. Yeah, I understood that after mine and Dean's knockdown drag-out at Ellen and Jo's place. Dean and Sam however…it was definitely hard on them. He was their foundation, their mentor for the life of being a hunter. Everything they knew, they knew from him, and he was taken from them.

I worked my jaw oddly, trying to keep my head in the present. I stood up abruptly, taking Sam by surprise at my movement. "I'm getting a pop. Wanna go with me?" I asked suddenly. Sam blinked at me, confused, then nodded.

"Yeah." He stood up from the edge of his bed, as we walked out of our motel room, "We need to tell Dean about Gordon, Abigail."

"I'd say we'd have to drag him away to do that," I muttered, "Knowin' him, he ain't gonna listen to us…it's like—"

"He's funneling everything into Gordon as some kind of substitute for dad." Sam said.

I looked at him sharply, feeling the familiar, dull ache of shame and remorse in my chest. I had felt a sliver of anger in the mix of that, knowing that it had come from Sam, "I have to say, Sam. I agree with ya on that." I fingered the dollar bill I had in my hand, glancing up and down the vending machine for something that was in the least bit appealing. As always, I chose my other man, _Dr. Pepper_, and with a pleasing thump, I reached down to get it. Sam got him an Aquafina, getting it out of the vending machine a moment later.

Halfway to the motel room, there was a sharp crack to our right, instantly alerting us. I stared into the darkness, eyes flickering over the tiniest of details for signs of a threat. There was definitely something there that was for sure. I hadn't felt that anxious, twinging sensation in my gut for a while, and it was oddly comforting.

"We should…head back." Sam suggested, sensing my discomfort. His always comforting, chocolate brown eyes kept throwing me cautious glances every moment or so that we were standing there, looking for whatever was lurking out there. I nodded, swatting his arm wordlessly to let him start walking. Following behind him, Sam fumbled with the keys for a moment before we entered the room, locking it behind us for good measure. Blowing out sighs of relief, we leaned against the door. I leaned over, placing my head against his shoulder for a second when something caught my attention from the corner of my eye.

A dark shadowy figure slinked in the room. It wasn't second later, I was shoving Sam out of the way as the figure's fist connected with the door. In retaliation, I swung out at the figure's head and connected nicely with a right hook to the person's face, then took out their legs. Apparently there was another one, due to Sam's fist connecting with some form of skin.

"Sam!" I called out, trying to alert him when the first attacker got back to his feet and slammed something into the back of my brother's head. I gasped out, readying myself for another round of trading licks, and felt something metal collide with the back of my head as well.

* * *

Sometime later, I woke up bound and gagged. My vision was blurred due to something being over my head—a bag, I presumed—until it was jerked off, and I grimaced at the sudden surge of pain in my head. There were several other things swarming around me. Apprehension, hostility, anger—a demanding atmosphere. I looked over to see Sam staring at me wide eyed.

"'ammy, 'ou o'ay?" I asked out, muffled by the gag. Sam nodded, jerking his head ahead, and I looked to see the bartender from the bar earlier. I furrowed my brows at him, bewildered at the pissed look. Then he bared his teeth—all of them—making me realize that he was a vampire. "'_it_" I swore as he began to advance Sam. We both started to struggle against our bonds. "'ou 'et away 'rom 'im!" I shouted, _still muffled_.

The bartender paused, cocking his head at me in an intrigued fashion. I narrowed my eyes at him, squirming underneath my bonds to get loose. Through everything I was feeling, something latched onto the hostility just like I had done back at the mill. His lips then curled back over his fangs in an animalistic snarl, advancing towards me.

"Wait! Step back, Eli." A woman's voice rang out from behind him. Obediently, the bartender—Eli—pulled back, his fang retracting as the woman walked over to Sam and pulled off his gag, then took a step towards me, pulling mine off, "My name's Lenore. I'm not going to hurt you. We just need to talk." I stared at her for a good long moment, assessing her. There was nothing but a yearning…but for what? To be heard?

Sam glanced to me, then back to her warily, "Talk?" he asked.

I scoffed despite what I felt. It was out of habit and many years of living with Winchesters. My mouth tip up into a sarcastic smirk, "Coulda fooled me." I quipped, earning a bitchface from Sam. I shrugged at him, then looked back to Lenore. Her only response to me was a slight twitch in her mouth.

She looked to him from over her shoulder, "He won't hurt you two. You both have my word." She stated, looking to the both of us. I fell silent, considering her words…maybe she had something here.

"Your word? Oh yeah, great, thanks." Sam scoffed, "Listen lady, no offense but you're not the first vampire we've met."

Lenore's eyes bored into his, "We're not like the others. We don't kill humans—" Sam turned his head to look at me. _A vampire that doesn't kill humans?_ I simply nodded in response to his gawking expression, "—and we don't drink their blood. We haven't for a long time." She explained calmly.

Sam wasn't buying it. "What is this, some kind of joke?"

"Notice you're still alive." His mouth made the movement to make some kind of snide reply to her; only nothing came out. He kind of bobbed his mouth a few times like a fish, throwing me a look to help him.

"She has a point, Sam." I said lightly, meeting her approving gaze. Sam looked absolutely gob smacked. I took another moment to gather up a question—it wasn't like I got to have an interview with a vampire every day you know, "Okay. So, correct me if I'm wrong here," I said slowly, "but shouldn't you be starvin' to death?"

Lenore gave me an amused smile, "We've found other ways—cattle blood."

I tilted my head slightly, fully glancing to Sam, "Those mutilations—you're tellin us that was—"

"It's not ideal, in fact it's disgusting. But - it allows us to get by." Lenore explained, looking at me steadily. I tapped my fingers against the chair I was in, thinking once again. It was beginning to make sense.

"Okay, uh, why?" Sam asked.

"Sammy, don't you get it?" I asked, finally getting the picture. Sam and Lenore blinked in surprise, "They do it for survival…no deaths. No missin' locals."

Lenore's mouth twitched into a small, approving smile, "Exactly. We have no reason for people like you to come looking for people like us. We blend in." She turned to Sam, trying to get him to understand like I was beginning to, "Our kind is practically extinct. Turns out we weren't quite as high up the food chain as we imagined."

Eli scoffed, "Why are we explaining ourselves to these killers—especially _her_?" His eyes narrowed at me, and a wave of anger hit me like a ton of bricks. I bowed my head in shame.

"Eli!" Lenore's voice barked out at him

He glared at her, defiantly, "We choke on cow's blood so that none of them suffer!" His hand extended to Sam and me, "Tonight they murdered Conrad and they celebrated!"

"Hold up!" I bit out, "Sam and I—we didn't celebrate! It wasn't our place."

Eli glared at me, "You're lying! _You_ were the one that cut off his head!" He advanced towards me, fangs extended, "You deserve to have your throat ripped out!" I shivered as a chill went up my spine. That was Dean and me. _I _delivered the blow that killed Conrad.

"Maybe I do!" I snapped, "What I did back there to your friend, nest mate, whatever the hell you wanna call Conrad—that is on me. Conrad's blood is on me—not Sam." Sam's mouth hung open in shock. I waggled my bound hand to Sam, seeing Eli's and Lenore's eyes move to him, "Do whatever you want to me, but don't you lay a hand on him." Consideration flashed in Eli's eyes, then he took a step towards me.

"Hey! Don't you touch her!" Sam jerked around in his seat to sway Eli's attention. He was oblivious, "You promised!" He shouted to Lenore.

"Eli, that's enough!" Lenore snapped, voice full of tension. Eli paused, staring at her firmly. In silence, they stared each other down like two wolves getting ready to have a showdown over their next meal.

"Yeah, Eli, that's enough." Sam mocked, earning a sharp look from me.

"What's done is done." She said to Eli, ignoring Sam's mockery, "We're leaving this town tonight."

"Then why did you bring us here? Why are you even telling us all of this?" I asked, wanting desperately to not believe everything that's been said. It was the exact opposite—these vampires…they were true to their words. It was just that kind of feeling.

Lenore then looked to me, "Believe me, I'd rather not. But I know your kind. Once you have the scent you'll keep tracking us. It doesn't matter where we go. Hunters will find us."

"So you're asking us not to follow you." Sam said lightly.

"We have a right to live. We're not hurting anyone." She defended.

"Right, so you keep saying," Sam pressed, "but give _me_ one good reason why I should believe you since you already have my sister's vote." Lenore approached him, getting in his face.

"Fine. You know what I'm going to do?" She asked. Out of habit, I instantly thought the worse. I started prying and wriggling my hand in an attempt to get my hands loose, "I'm going to let you go." Sam and I looked at her, startled. That was the complete opposite of what I was thinking. Lenore's eyes flickered back to Eli and another vampire, "Take them back—not a mark on either of them."

Being cut loose, Eli and the other vampire lead us each to the truck, covering our heads with the sack again.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Motel—Night**_

Abigail and Sam were nowhere in sight by the time Gordon and I had returned to the motel room. I was more than ready to go over our next strategy as to finding out where this vampire nest was hiding. With a map stretched out, I watched intently as Gordon drew out a line across it.

"This is the best pattern I can establish—it's sketchy at best." He said, taking a seat across from me. I peered down at it with pursed lips in thought. He had something going on, and it was piecing together.

"Looks like it's all coming from this side of town." I pointed out, circling that area of the map, "Which means the nest would be around here someplace, right?" I tapped my index finger to another area close by.

With an approving nod, Gordon smirked, "Yep, that's what I'm thinking. Problem is, there's thirty-five, forty farms out there." I nodded, taking note of several other areas, "I've searched about half of them already, but nothing yet. They're covering their tracks real good."

I sat down in my chair twisting open a cold beer, "Well, I guess we'll just have to search the other half." I thought for a moment, taking a look at my watch, with a frown. "What time is it? Where's Sam and Abigail?"

Gordon shrugged, "Car's parked outside. Probably went for a walk." He suggested, "They both seem like the take-a-walk type."

I nodded. Lately, Abigail is everything _but_ a homebody, "Yeah, they are, but Abigail normally doesn't just up and walk out on a job." I moistened my lips, glancing over to the clock on the nightstand and at the door. _Where the hell are they?_ My leg started bobbing up and down. _It was getting late—too late for me to be comfortable_.

The door to the motel room opened, causing me to stand and turn, seeing Sam and Abigail standing in the doorway. They didn't move any further into the room; Abigail was staring Gordon down like he was some monster and Sam gave me some kind of look. "Where have you two been?"

Abigail's jaw worked oddly, glancing between me and Gordon, "Can I borrow my boyfriend for a moment?" Gordon's brows raised in surprise at her tone. The both of them didn't quite give him or me time to speak, because as soon as Abigail spoke, they turned and went back out the door.

I laughed, embarrassed at their behavior, "You mind chillin' out for a couple minutes?" He nodded, remaining seated at the table. I walked out of the room, spotting them both standing by the Impala—a safe distance away from the motel room and out of earshot of Gordon.

"Dean, maybe we've got to rethink this hunt." Sam began, not giving me time to speak or chew them out for how they were being.

I scoffed, "What are you talking about?" I looked to the both of them, "Where were you two?"

Abigail held a firm gaze with mine, "In the nest."

_Whoa. That was unexpected_. I blinked, taken aback at this discovery, and instantly started looking for any signs of injuries on the both of them, "You found it?" _Okay, I sounded a little impressed and excited for them—I knew they were good, but hot damn!_ _Neither of them came out unscathed! I definitely didn't give Sammy or Abs enough credit—_

Sam shook his head, "They found _us_, man."

I blinked, not sure what I heard was real. "What?" I asked, glancing to my girlfriend for confirmation. Her jaw was set, and she nodded her head. I started firing off questions left and right like, '_How'd you get out?'_ and '_How many'd you kill?'_ noticing how irritable Abigail and Sam were getting. Her eyes narrowed at me slightly.

"None." She deadpanned.

I choked out a laugh. _They had to be joking_! "Abs, they didn't just let you guys go out from the goodness of their hearts."

"That's exactly what they did." She defended. Sam stood beside her, nodding in compliance to every word she said. _This was unbelievable_!

"Alright, well, where is it?" I asked, talking about the nest. Abigail and Sam fell silent, chewing on the sides of their cheeks. I raised my brows at them as a way of saying, _continue._ Surely they had something!

Abigail let loose of her bottom lip, "We were blindfolded." She explained, "We don't know."

"Well, you've got to know something." I deadpanned.

"We went over that bridge outside of town," Sam said, "but Dean, listen. Maybe we shouldn't go after them." He was beginning to look all worked up and concerned. Concerned about what? The leeches? Surely not!

I furrowed my brows at them, "Why not?"

"I don't think they're like other vampires, Dean." Abigail said, "I really don't think they're killing people."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Gordon was right—about Sam, about _Abigail_. "You're joking." Abigail threw her arms up in exasperation, "Then how do they stay alive? Or undead, or whatever the hell they are."

"The cattle mutilations—," Sam brought up, "They said they live off of animal blood."

"And you believed them?" I asked staring at both Sam and Abigail, incredulously.

"Look at me, Dean. Look at Abigail." He tried to reason with me, "They let us go without a scratch."

I rolled my eyes at him, "Abs, tell me you don't believe this crap!" She said nothing, "You just helped me gank one, not even three hours ago, and now you're with them?"

Abigail sent me a withering look, "I'm not sure what I want to believe, Dean. But the vampires are sounding like my team choice."

I scoffed, "Wait, so you're saying..." I shook my head at them, "No. No way." I refused to think they were being reasonable. It was far from it! "I don't know why they let you go—I don't really care. We find 'em—we waste 'em."

Abigail's eyes widened, "Why?"

"What part of '_vampires_' don't you understand, Abs?" I barked out, quickly losing my temper, "If it's supernatural, we kill it—end of story. That's our job."

"No, _Dean,_ that is not our job." She bit out, "Our job is huntin' _evil_. And if these things aren't killin' people, they're not evil!"

I took a step toward her, almost bringing us chest to chest. She didn't back down from me, or look away. Abigail was firmly planted in her spot, "Of course they're killing people, that's what they do, Abigail! They're all the same. They're not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them."

This time, Sam stepped in, pushing me back a couple of steps to stand between Abigail and I, "No, Dean, I don't think so, alright? Not this time."

I motioned my arm back to the motel room, "Gordon's been on those vamps for a year, man, he knows."

Sam scoffed, "_Gordon_?"

"Yes."

Sam's eyes narrowed at me, "You're taking his word for it?"

I nodded firmly, "That's right."

"Ellen says he's bad news." He said, throwing a glance back to Abigail, who looked like she was about to kill something—or me, preferably.

"You—you called Ellen?" Sam nodded, "And I'm supposed to listen to her? We barely know her, Sam, no thanks, I'll go with Gordon."

Abigail let out a condescending laugh, her lips tipping upwards into a sneer, "Right, 'cause Gordon's such an old friend." She deadpanned, "You don't think we can see what this is?"

I looked between the both of them, "What are you talking about?"

"He's a substitute for Dad, isn't he?" Sam deadpanned.

Abigail snorted, "A poor one."

I glared at the both of them, biting back a well of fury that broiled deep within my chest, "Shut up…both of you."

Sam kept on, "He's not even close, Dean. Not on his best day."

My arms flew up and I grinned at them both, "You know what? I'm not even going to talk about this—not to you two." Sam stared at me defiantly while Abigail's eyes bored holes. I could almost feel the heat from them. I turned my back to the both of them, intent on getting back to the motel and leave with Gordon to the nest.

"You know, you slap on this big fake smile but I can see right through it." Abigail said coldly. I froze. "Because I know how you feel, Dean."

"Hell, the both of us do." Sam added. I slowly turned back around, staring at them casually, "Dad's dead. And he left a hole, and it hurts so bad you can't take it, but you can't just fill up that hole with whoever you want to." I stared at Abigail, seeing her eyes glitter with unshed tears, "It's an insult to his memory, as well as an insult to me, Abigail, and Megan."

I worked my jaw oddly, "Okay." I turned, and at that time, I balled my hand into a fist fully intended on fighting my brother. There was a quick shuffle of feet when I lashed out, and connected a hard punch, square into Abigail's jaw. She was right where Sam was supposed to be. Where _I _was supposed to punch _him_, not her. She fell flat on her ass, eyes wide.

When I realized what I had done, time stood still, and I found it hard to breathe. _I didn't just hit her_. I blinked, several times. _I didn't_. Sam was standing a few feet behind Abigail, shell-shocked. His mouth was hanging open. I remained frozen in my spot, staring down in disbelief. Abigail brought her hands up, inspecting it for a moment in shock, running her fingers against her palms—she was bleeding. Then she worked her jaw oddly, and spit at the space between her knees—it was nothing but blood. Dread overwhelmed me. I took a step forward to help her up, only to stop at the looks from both her and Sam.

"Abs, I—," I fumbled over my words like some idiot. Abigail pushed off her bleeding hands, to her feet where she held my gaze coldly.

"What's next? Another car?" I averted my eyes to the ground. Not again. This is my fault, "Y'know, you can _try_ to hit Sam all you want. Hell, you can hit me—it ain't gonna change a damn thing about us, about Dad, or about Gordon."

"Yeah, well…I'm going to that nest." I forced myself to say, "You two don't want to tell me where it is, fine. I'll find it myself." I turned my back to them, heading back to the motel room in search of Gordon. I ignored Sam calling out after me. What's done, is done. I couldn't take what I did, back. Walking into the motel room, Gordon was nowhere in sight, "Gordon?"

"You think he went after them?" Sam asked, stopping short behind me.

I shrugged, "Probably."

"Dean, we have to stop him." He said.

I scoffed, "Really, Sam? Because I say we lend a hand."

His eyes narrowed at me, "Just give me the benefit of the doubt, would you? You owe me that. If not me, then you owe Abigail."

I grimaced, "Yeah, we'll see." I muttered, holding my hand out, "I'll drive. Give me the keys."

Sam pointed to a table; my keys were gone, "He must've snaked the keys." I groaned, "I think you're gonna have to hot-wire the Impala."

Two minutes later, Sam was in the passenger side seat while Abigail was in the backseat. I was under the steering wheel, hotwiring the car and grimaced, "I can't believe this." I grunted out, "I just fixed her up, too." With a pleasing roar of Baby's engine, I grunted and slid out, looking to Sam, "So the bridge, is that, uh, is that all you got?"

"The bridge was four and a half minutes from their farm." Sam replied.

I arched my brow at him, revving the engine to the car, "How do you know?"

"We counted." Abigail deadpanned, tracing a path on the map in the backseat. Sam careened his head to look at her while I maneuvered the rearview mirror. She glanced up from the map at us, "They took a left out of the farm, then turned right onto a dirt road, followed that for two minutes slightly up a hill, then took another quick right and we hit the bridge."

I looked over to Sam, astounded, "You're good." I commented, seeing her send me a sharp look before I looked ahead, pulling the Impala into reverse, "Granted, you're both a monster pain in the ass, but you're good. Both of you."

"Shut up and drive, Dean." Abigail said curtly.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Farmhouse—Night**_

It had taken us four and half minutes exactly to get back to the farmhouse. We were at the right place because I was torn between doubling over in pain and ripping someone's throat out. Just outside of the barn, Gordon's red El Camino sat. This wasn't good. Sam and I were out of the car before Dean could fully stop and cut the engine, making a beeline to the farmhouse.

We paused in front of the double doors, hearing Lenore's pained groans. I swayed a little, unsure that Sam had caught that until his hand shot out to catch me. I looked up at him, meeting his worried gaze.

"You okay?" He asked.

I grimaced, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just lost my balance." Dean approached us, tucking his gun into the back of his jeans instead of carrying a machete. I raised a brow at him, glancing up at Sam inquisitively. He shrugged in response before Dean paused in front of us. _So he may have put Sam's words into consideration_.

Pushing open the barn door, we stepped inside to see Gordon dipping his knife into a jar of congealed blood—dead man's blood, to be exact. My eyes fell upon Lenore, allowing a gasp to escape at the state she was in. Gordon had tied her to a chair nearby, covered in cuts; some shallow and some deeper than others, and her complexion was pale and sickly. The side-effects of what the blood did to a vamp.

Gordon circled around her, slicing her across the chest with the knife as he did so, "Sam, Dean, Abigail—come on in." He greeted us like old friends. I sucked in a sharp breath, _feeling _every bit of that blade's bite. It was searing, and was hard to conceal my discomfort.

Dean stared at his comrade warily, "Hey, Gordon. What's going on?"

"Just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man's blood." He responded to Dean, matter-of-factly. "She's going to tell us where all her little friends are, aren't you?" Lenore glared at him wearily when he turned his back on her, "Wanna help?"

There was this halting, uneasy feeling resonating from Dean. Was he reconsidering Gordon? Dean breathed out a heavy sigh, "Look, man—." He shifted uneasily at the sight before him.

"Grab a knife." Gordon cut him off, gesturing to a nearby table, "I was just about to start in on the fingers." He drug the knife across Lenore's arm once more with the blade covered in dead man's blood. I cringed, grinding my teeth at the pain. I couldn't break focus—not now.

Dean held his hands out to Gordon in a diffusing gesture, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, let's all just chill out, huh?"

Gordon held his gaze on Dean with an eerily calm expression. He certainly wasn't our first unreasonable person we'd come across, and he most certainly wasn't going to be our last, "I'm completely chill."

I slowly took a step forward, "Gordon, put the knife down." Dean's arm swung out, capturing me by the waist to stop me. The tension in the general area was so full of static, it could've been fashioned into an electric storm. Sheer hostility—a murderous animosity—broiled from Gordon, sending chills up my spine while genuine concern reigned from Sam and Dean.

"Sounds like it's Abby here who needs to chill. What happened Dean? Thought you said she's too strung out to be out here—might kill'er." Gordon didn't take his eyes off me, a sneer tugging at his lips as he addressed Dean. I glared at him. There was no way I was 'strung out', what the hell was Dean thinking?!

"Just step away from her, alright?" Sam said tersely from where he stood beside Dean and I, and surprisingly, Gordon heeded his words by tossing down the knife on the table. I eyed him suspiciously, there was something more to what he was leading on.

"You're right. I'm wasting my time here. This bitch will never talk. Might as well put her out of her misery." Gordon reached behind him, pulling out a larger knife—a machete in a black, leather sheath. It got so quiet in there, you could almost hear a pin drop. Gordon slid it out, inspecting it with a grin, "I just sharpened it, so it's completely humane."

He made a move towards the weakened vampire and I moved in front of her, blocking Gordon's path, "It'll be a cold day in hell if I let you touch 'er. Sam's gonna let her go." I kept my eyes on him in a glare as he laughed.

Gordon pointed the machete at Sam, stopping him, "He's not gonna do a damn thing."

"Hey, hey, hey, Gordon," Dean said quickly, "let's talk about this."

"What's there to talk about?" Gordon asked, "It's like I said, Dean. No shades of gray."

"Yeah. I hear ya." Dean tried to reason with him, throwing a worried look to both Sam and I. "And I know how you feel." His voice was low and controlling, _far_ from what he was feeling—angered and concerned.

"Do you?" Gordon's face held a steely expression.

"That vampire that killed your sister deserved to die, but this one..." Gordon burst out into a maniacal laugh, interrupting him.

"_Killed_ my sister?" Gordon's gave us a toothy grin, "That filthy fang didn't kill my sister. It turned her." Dean blinked in confusion—he'd been played a food by him, "It made her one of them. So I hunted her down, and I killed her myself."

Dean looked livid, "You did what?"

"It wasn't my sister anymore, it wasn't human. I didn't blink. And neither would you if it were either of them, or your little girl." I bristled up at the mention of my daughter, snapping my head to glare at Dean. His face was ridden with horror and anger.

_Dean told him about—about Megan_?! I couldn't hardly breathe, "So you knew all along, then?" Sam deadpanned, taking the heat, "You knew about the vampires, you knew they weren't killing anyone. You knew about the cattle. And you just didn't care."

"Care about what? A nest of vampires suddenly acting nice? Taking a little time out from sucking innocent people? And we're supposed to buy that? Trust me. Doesn't change what they are. And I can prove it." Gordon grabbed Sam by the arm, slicing the machete across it, and held the blade against his throat, dragging him towards Lenore. Dean grabbed me, pulling me behind him and pulled his gun out.

"Let him go. Now!" Dean demanded, his eyes flashing with fury. I pulled my weapon out on him as well, rage surging through me.

"Relax. If I wanted to kill him he'd already be on the floor." Gordon told us, still remaining calm. However, his eyes held a dark, psychotic gleam, "Just making a little point." We watched in horror as Gordon held out Sam's cut arm over Lenore so that his blood dripped onto her face. As a reaction, she hissed, her fang extending.

"Hey!" I barked out.

"You think she's so different? Still want to save her? Look at her. They're all the same. Evil, bloodthirsty." I clenched my jaw, catching Dean's guilty and apologetic look. I focused back on Lenore, watching as she controlled herself, and turned her face away muttering, _no_ pitifully. My chest clenched out of sympathy—I felt her fighting off that urge.

"You hear her, Gordon?" Sam hissed out, pushing the knife away from his throat, and pushed Gordon away from him, "We're done here."

Dean and I remained fixed in our places, guns drawn on Gordon, "Sam, get her out of here." Dean ordered. Sam came forward to untie Lenore and picked her up. Gordon stepped towards him, but we still had our guns trained on him.

"If you're feelin' froggy ole boy," I warned him. Gordon stared at us with vehemence.

"Get out of my way." He said.

I shook my head, "Not a chance."

"Gordon, I think you and I've got some things to talk about." Dean said.

A scoff left Gordon's mouth as he watched Sam leave with Lenore. "You're not serious."

"I'm having a hard time believing it too, but I know what I saw." Dean hung his head as he shook it in his own disbelief while I kept a firm lock on Gordon's scheming ass, "If you want those vampires, you gotta go through me and Abs."

Gordon nodded, considering his words. He looked down at his knife a second, then jammed it into the table, "Fine." Dean glanced to me, then down at our weapons. _So this was going to be a knockdown drag-out. We were pretty good at those_, considering. We popped our clips out simultaneously, setting them off to the side. Like I had done Sam, I jumped in front of Dean upon anticipating Gordon's move.

Gordon lunged forward to punch him, only to hit me and sent me to the ground. Dean then lunged forward promptly to punch him in the face. Recuperating quickly, I stood up, watching the two men fight ferociously. Dean and Gordon's fists swung out and connected into each other a couple of times, when Dean punched him, sending the elder hunter backwards a couple of steps.

His hand flew out, snatching up the knife he held and went after Dean until I lunged at him, punching Gordon in the jaw. He turned as fast as lighting, turning on me and punched me again in the jaw before he brought his left hand—and the knife—across my chest, which was intended to go after my throat. A pained cry ripped from my mouth at the searing pain, stumbling backwards until my boot got hung up on a piece of equipment and I fell. I hit my head against something _hard, _putting me in a temporary daze_._ Gordon laughed darkly, "Women don't make good hunters," He taunted, "Shoulda stayed at home, sweetheart."

I glared at him, despite the fact that I was in sheer agony, "Bite me." Dean blindsided Gordon, making him drop the knife and sent them both crashing to the ground. Dean had the upper hand; one of his hands had a death grip on Gordon's shirt and jacket while he drove his other fist into the side of his face. He was relentless.

There was a moment where Dean paused, hearing Gordon's labored breathing, "What are you doing, man? You doing this for a fang?" Dean panted, rage radiating off of him, "Come on, Dean, we're on the same side here."

Dean shook his head, "I don't think so, you sadistic bastard."

With all his might, Gordon managed to break free of Dean's hold and shoved him backwards, "You're not like your brother, or your girlfriend! You're a killer, like me." I got to my feet, ready to go another round with him, despite the pain. Gordon got to his feet, eyeing me like a wolf readying himself to kill a lamb—except, I wasn't a defenseless lamb.

He lunged at me again, this time I reciprocated and dodged him, slamming my heel into his leg sending him stumbling. "No, he's not." I bit out, watching his movements carefully. The three of us were beaten and bloodied, "You come near me, or my daughter," I breathed out, "I won't hesitate to kill you."

"You don't scare me, little girl." He sneered, lunging once again, only to be caught by Dean and hauled him against the wall. Dean's elbow lashed out with a fierce intent, knocking the man out. Pinning him under his elbow, he slammed Gordon's head into another wall.

"Oh, sorry." Dean grunted out with no indication of an apology in his voice. Slowly, I approached Dean to help him set Gordon's limp body in the same chair Lenore was tied up in and bound his arms and legs, "You know, I might be like you, and I might not." Dean took a step back, blowing out a heavy sigh, "But you're the one tied up right now."

I staggered back a couple of steps finding it hard to breathe. Dean's eyes found their way to mine, but I just turned away from him, heading out of the barn. "Abigail." I clenched my jaw upon hearing him call after me. Another couple of feet, I felt his hand grab my elbow to turn me around and I lashed out at him, sending my left fist into his jaw. He took a couple of steps back, wide-eyed.

"I don't need to explain myself on that." My voice wavered between emotions and pain. Dean merely nodded, staring at the deep gash that was across my chest, guilt flooding me. I squeezed my eyes shut. I was in so much pain since the adrenaline wore off. My clothes were ruined due to blood soaking the front of my shirt. What blood dried, conformed to my body in a sticky mess.

"I'm sorry." His voice croaked out, "Abs, I'm—I'm so sorry." I remained fixed in my place, willing away the pain. "That wasn't supposed to happen—"

"It wasn't supposed to happen to _me_." I cut him off, staring at him in a pained expression. His narrowed eyes softened from anger to guilt.

"Why?" He breathed out. I merely shrugged my shoulders at him in response, I didn't have to see Dean's face to know that he was mad, "Don't give me that shit, Abigail! Why'd you do that?"

"Someone's gotta protect you two when no one else will," I replied indifferently.

Dean scoffed at me, "I can handle myself, Abigail. I didn't need you to take a hit for me."

"Yeah, well, I did." I ground out, "Now I've got a matchin' pair of black eyes; one from you, one from Gordon." Dean visibly grimaced at my insult, "And lemme tell you somethin' Dean…I'm very much capable of fendin' for myself. I'm not _strung out_, I'm not helpless." Dean swallowed hard, "I don't know what you think of me, and I don't really care." I chewed on my cheek out of anger, "Truth is, I could care less about getting the shit knocked out of me. I could do that all day. What has me pissed off to where I can't see straight, is the fact that _you_ endangered our daughter. Not me, _you_." Dean hung his head, shame-faced, "You're her father, Dean! You're. Supposed. To _protect her_!"

"Abigail, I wasn't thinking." He said, "I just thought—"

"Thought what?" I prompted him, "Thought that it would be okay to brag about our kid to someone we don't even know?! To a fucked up individual that killed his own sister?!"

"He had no choice." Dean defended.

I scoffed, "Could you do that to me?"

"What?" Dean stared at me, taken aback.

"Could you do that to me and not even bat an eye?" I asked firmly, "I want to know, Dean. Could you just kill me, or Sammy, or Megan out of cold blood?" I watched through tear soaked lashes at the muscle ticking in his jaw.

"I'm not answering that," He said definitively.

My lips quirked into a knowing smirk, "Because you can't, Dean. Imagine what he would've done if left in the same room with our kid." Dean's face scrunched into a look of shame. I let out a soft sound, like that of a whimper and scoff and stared up at the night sky briefly. The heaviness of this night's event weighed in on me, and a memory slipped into my mind. I started laughing like some idiot, gasping out in pain with each breath.

Dean's brows scrunched together in confusion, then looked absolutely bewildered and worried when and I brought my blood-covered hand to my mouth when I my laughter rolled into sobbing. He closed the gap between us quickly, and pulled me against him, ignoring my blood-soaked clothes. His right hand found it's way to the back of my head, guiding it down to his shoulder where he rested the side of his face against mine.

"You and Sam was right, Abs." Dean whispered hoarsely, "You two were right about everything…Gordon, the vampires…" His chest expanded sharply, "I was too stupid to listen to you. I ignored everything in my gut because I was so hell-bent on a hunt." He pulled away, tears glittering in the illumination of the moon and gained a far off look, "I miss him, Abs."

"I do too." I muttered, smearing blood across my face from wiping away tears.

"I miss the hell outta him." He admitted, allowing a lone, stray tear to escape, "It's like, I have this _void_ in me…and it feels like it's just getting bigger and bigger." His tongue darted out to moisten his lips, "And it's like, no matter what I do…" He hung his head, shaking it.

"It doesn't change a thing…" I finished for him, brokenly. Dean nodded slowly. "Tougher than a pine knot…" I mused, earning a softened look from my boyfriend. He did a miserable attempt at laughing.

"God, he was. They both were." Dean agreed reminiscing about our fathers. "I used to think Dad was virtually indestructible—nothing could kill him. Ever since we were kids." He brought his hand up to his face to wipe away a tear.

"Destiny…" I scoffed out.

Dean's mouth curved up at me wryly, "_Totally_, destiny."

* * *

It was morning by the time Sam had returned. I was situated on a stack of hay bales within eyeshot of Dean, resting my eyes. I had long since peeled my shirt off of me and had it held against my chest to slow the bleeding with Dean's jacket wrapped securely around me and zipped up. Dean was pacing around the room, throwing dirty looks to Gordon, and in return, received them.

Sam halted, seeing the three of us battered and bloodied, "Did I miss anything?"

Dean and I exchanged a look. I shook my head at him, "Nah, not much. Lenore get out okay?"

"Yeah. All of 'em did." He emphasized, seeing Gordon's jaw tighten at the news. I smiled at him smugly.

"Good." I said, seeing Dean nod in agreement, helping me down off the bales, still holding Gordon's knife.

"Then I guess our work here is done." He told Sam, turning to look at Gordon, "How you doin', Gordy? Gotta tinkle yet?" Gordon glared at him and me. We grinned at him, "Alright. Well, get comfy. We'll call someone in two or three days, have them come out, untie you." Dean twirled the knife a time or two in his hand before jamming it as hard as he could into the table behind Gordon.

"Ready to go?" I asked, seeing Dean look to me, then flickered to Sam.

"Not yet." He said to me, pulling away from my waist, turning to Gordon, "I guess this is goodbye." I smiled at how bashful he appeared to be, "Well, it's been real." Dean dealt him a nice uppercut to the chin, knocking the man backwards, and as a result, topple the chair backwards with a painful crash. I winced, feeling all too satisfied, realizing that it was coming from Dean, "Oh, and to clarify, Abs is twice the hunter you could ever think about being, Gordy." He turned back around with a smug grin, wrapping his arm around my waist and planted a kiss to my temple, "Okay, I'm good now." He told Sam, "We can go."

Exiting the farmhouse, we all winced at our injuries. Dean had wrapped Sam's left arm in a bandage, and he was scratching at it. Dean had also tended to my chest, cleaning it thoroughly, and stitched it, then bandaged it, as well as cleaning the little cuts and scrapes I had on my face. I had cleaned the cuts and scrapes Dean himself was sporting from his brawl with Gordon.

"Sam?" I paused when Dean's arm fell away from my waist, turning to see him spread his feet apart like a boxer's, "Clock me one."

Sam furrowed his brows, "What?"

Dean motioned his brother to punch him, "Come on. I won't even hit you back. Let's go."

"No." Sam said incredulous, "If anyone gets to clock you one, it's Abigail."

Dean shook his head, "Abs already did, it's your turn. Let's go, you get a freebie. Hit me, come on." Dean just readied himself while Sam scoffed and waved his hand at his brother's ridiculous request.

"You look like you just went twelve rounds with a block of cement, Dean. I'll take a rain check, besides, I think Abigail already did a number on you." Sam replied, taking the passenger rear door. He motioned for me to ride up front.

"I wish we never took this job." Dean said suddenly looking up at us with knitted brows, "It's jacked everything up."

I rounded the Impala, pausing at the passenger side door, "What do you mean?"

"Think about all the hunts we went on, guys, our whole lives. What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing?" He asked, "You know? I mean, the way Dad raised us..."

"Dean, after what happened to Mom, Dad did the best he could." Sam reassured him.

Dean looked to his brother guiltily, "I know he did. But the man wasn't perfect. And the way he raised us, to hate those things; and man, I hate 'em. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill I didn't even think about it; hell, I even enjoyed it." He looked to me, "I don't know about you, Abs…"

Sam turned his head to me with a frown. I bit my lip, wincing, "It wasn't my proudest moments in this job, I'll keep it at that. But you didn't kill Lenore," I added.

"No, but every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill 'em all." Dean replied.

"Yeah, Dean, but you didn't." Sam said, "And that's what matters."

"Yeah. Well, 'cause you're a pain in my ass, and Abigail's always right." Sam laughed while I smiled. Lord knows I wanted to laugh, but I wasn't going to chance it. I patted the roof of the Impala, sinking into the front seat, leaving the two men to talk. Moments later, Sam got in the backseat, then Dean in the driver's seat. Starting the engine, Dean pulled away from the farmhouse, leaving Gordon Walker behind. I sure as hell wasn't going to miss the man, but I was more than ready to see my daughter.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View **_

_"Okay, that's everybody" said the doctor, "Time of death—10:41 AM."_

_No. This can't be! Dad couldn't be dead, I thought as they turned off the monitors and I barely heard Abigail's wailing. The man who raised me and Sam, the one who took Abigail in as if she was one of his own—gone. He was supposed to be here to take down the demon…to watch my daughter grow up. I was reeling in shock. He had been hunting the demon all of his life trying to avenge mom, and now, something got to him._

_"Dean!" I heard Sam call out. I wanted to turn, but I couldn't take my eyes off of my dad's corpse._

_"Dean!" I heard Sam call out again, only this time it was different. "Dean!" It was urgent. I heard monitors go off again._

_"She's in tachycardia, close to flat lining. Get the crash cart stat!" said the doctors. I turned, seeing Abigail's gown get cut to expose her bare chest. _This can't be happening. _I felt my heart clench painfully. _Not again. _"Abigail!" I called out, forcing myself to move from where I stood to try and do something. A pair of arms held me back._

_"Dean, no!" It was Sam. I wanted him to let me go. I had to get to Abigail, she needed me!_

_"Clear!" shouted the doctor as he placed the paddles on her chest. I watched her arch up lifeless. My breath got caught in my throat. _She can't die_, I told myself, _she can't die, she can't die_._ She won't.

_"We have a pulse."_

I shot up in the bed, remembering that I was in our room at Bobby's. Breathing heavily, I looked at the clock, and I saw that it was three o'clock in the morning. I laid back down scrubbing my hands down my face roughly. I was exhausted—too tired to think straight. I worried constantly that I was gonna lose Abs permanently. I reached out to touch Abigail's sleeping form to reassure myself, to keep myself levelheaded, and know that she was here.

She was sleeping heavily—much better than what it had been. I gently turned her to lay on her back and she let out a grunt of protest, scrunching her face in pain from her chest when her arm came up to scratch at herself. I frowned, taking her arm away from her stitches, and saw her settle down into a dormant state. I studied her for a minute; frowning at her battered face and I slowly placed my fingers on the side of her neck to check her pulse—it had become a ritual of mine despite everything. I _needed_ to feel that she was still fighting and felt a steady pulse on her neck. I felt ridiculous that I would do something like that to her, but it was the only thing I could do to placate myself.

I must've sat up for a few hours sitting through various replays of the previous day's events, wallowed in the lowest points of that day, and savored what time things were alright; which wasn't a lot. I traced the side of her face with my fingertips, watching her closely for signs that she would awake. Gingerly laying my head on her chest, the sound of her heart beating was the most beautiful sound I have heard since this crap with dad happened. It was one of the few things in my life that I valued more than myself. I straightened back up, wiping another tear from my eyes, as she turned on her side and reached her arm out in search of me. I laughed quietly at that gesture, and settled back in beside her. It wasn't long that Abigail had worked her way to situate herself so that her chest didn't hurt her as bad, and nestled her head on my chest.

I loved this girl more than life, and I screwed it up on several times. She was a forgiving person—protective. I didn't want to think about how many more chances I had until I fucked it up so bad, she'd leave. My chest clenched painfully, causing me to pull her against me tighter, smelling the fruity scent of her hair, "I love you, Abs…" I muttered into her hair, "God knows, I do."

* * *

**How 'bout this chapter?! Something is definitely going on with Dean and Abigail, and I believe Abigail is going to get down to it in the next chapter and it is gonna. make. your. jaws. drop!**

**I'd love to thank _Ladysunshine6_ for lending some help with writing a few scenes and adding in a few things, as well as thanking**** _grapejuice101 _for ****giving me suggestions as to what I wrote. I can't thank you girls enough!**

**I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise. ****I would absolutely die if fanfiction .net took this down for my stupidity.**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me, I love receiving both!**

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**The song for this chapter-_Thoughtless_ by Korn**

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**grapejuice101\- Thank you so much! That really means a lot to me! I hope you liked this chapter!**

**sarahmichellegellarfan1- Thank you! There's something definitely going on from the looks of everything!**

**ebonywarrior85- Thank you! Ugh! I know! He makes me have unrealistic expectations in men! haha.**

**deangirlforever85- Thank you! Is it wrong of me to say that I love hearing that, because I really do! It lets me know I'm doing something right for my readers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! (:**

**giddyfan- Thank you! If there's anything that you think could improve future chapters, just shoot me a PM! I'd love to hear what you have in mind! (:**

**angelicedg\- Ugh! I loved writing that (and anything pertaining to daddy!dean and him and abigail)! I get all giddyfied over fluffy stuff! Sometimes things gotta be hard before they start getting better, and I believe that things will begin to straighten out in the next couple of chapters (maybe). Woo! That's awesome! Nothing's better than curling up and reading a good ole fanfic! haha. Hope you enjoyed this chapter dear! c:**


	7. Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things

**WARNING: There is drug use in this chapter. If you don't like it, feel free to skip the parts!**

* * *

_Every time I try to get a little closer_

_You shut down and the conversation's over_

_I'm right here, but you leave me in the dark_

_Show me your private parts._

_Give it up baby, what are you afraid of_

_Love sucks when you don't know what it's made of_

_We get naked but I can't undress your heart_

_Show me your private parts, show me your private parts_

_I can't remember the last time that this felt real_

_(I would've cut you out, if I didn't love you)_

_And how can you blame me for feelin' the way I feel?_

_(I'm not blaming you, I'm just tryin' to figure it out)_

_I can take a little hesitating, I'll wait forever if it's worth the waiting_

* * *

_**August 29**__**th**__**, 2006**_

_**Road—Day**_

The Impala zoomed down the desolate highway. I sat up front where I had a front row seat to Dean's complaining about Sam's wanting to visit their mother's 'grave'. I massaged my temples for the hundredth time at the headache that was beginning pound at my head. There were two sides of the ensuing argument, and I knew both of them. I was better off finding a cave to hole up in than put my two cents in. Besides, the flurry of aggravation, annoyance, and uncertainty flying from both men were about to drive me up the wall.

"Come on, Sam, I'm begging you. This is stupid." Dean implored, turning his eyes up at the rearview mirror to peer back at Sam—he was going to fight him tooth and nail until there was nothing left of him.

Sam stared back at his brother, befuddled, "Why?" I mentally groaned out of indignation. It was his tenth time asking that. _What was this? His sophomore year again?_

"Going to visit Mom's grave?" Dean reiterated what we were doing, again. I peered down at the latest issue of _Field &amp; Stream_ with an icy glare to a nice twelve point buck staring back at me in hopes that I could block out the two squabbling brothers.

"She doesn't even have a grave!" His voice cut through and I closed the magazine with an irritated sigh. I couldn't recollect how many times I would hear him tell me that when we would talk, "There was no body left after the fire." I frowned at his defensive tone, growing somewhat apprehensive.

"She has a headstone." Sam pointed out.

"Yeah, put up by her uncle—a man we've never even met." Dean's hand tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles were white, "So you wanna, go pay your respects to a slab of granite put up by a stranger—"

"Dean, enough." I finally said, cutting him off. Dean turned his head to glower at me—he was agitated as it was with Sam's constant pining. Hell, we both were, but what really had us on edge was Megan. She had to have a correction surgery for her cleft hard and soft palate—as well as she ate, you'd never think she had one to begin with—scheduled in the next few days, "Sam just want to pay his respects to her memory…" I added.

"Oh, so now you're siding with him?" He accused.

I raised a brow at him, "I'm not takin' anyone's side. You do what you want, Sam does what he wants. You don't _have_ to see the headstone when Sam does." I looked over my shoulder to see Sam giving me a grateful look.

"Besides," Sam said lightly, "after Dad it just... just feels like the right thing to do." I clamped my mouth shut as both Dean and I stiffened in our seats. Things just got uncomfortable again.

"It's irrational, is what it is." Dean grumbled, shifting around in his seat.

"Look, man. No one asked you to come." Sam said sounding—surprisingly—understanding. It was one of the many firsts of the day.

"Why don't we swing by the roadhouse instead?" Dean asked, "I mean, we haven't heard anything on the demon lately. We should be hunting that son of a bitch down." I shook my head at Dean's words. That's all he was wanting to do. Hunt. Bury himself in the job so that he couldn't face reality. Drink himself into oblivion. At least, this had been as of late.

"That's a good idea, you both should." Sam said, causing me to turn around in the seat, "Just drop me off, I'll hitch a ride, and I'll meet you guys there tomorrow."

I regarded Dean uneasily._ Was Sam being serious right now?_

"Hell, instead of that, maybe you two could go do your own thing somewhere and _talk _things through. I'm sure there's a lot of things to _talk_ about." Sam suddenly added growing exasperated again. Pointing out the fact that there had been a considerable amount of friction between Dean and I proved to be an uncomfortable subject. I frowned, knowing that it was driving him up the wall, there was no guessing that.

Dean cast a glance at me like a kid guilty of doing something. His brows were knitted together, eyes full of worry, and seemed unnerved that we had gotten ourselves so out of hand that _Sam_ was beginning to see it. I looked down at my lap, shame-faced. _How could we be that careless_? Then again, who _couldn't_ hear us arguing all hours of the night and one of us charging out of the house in a whirlwind, or throwing objects around? Deep down, there was something wrong, and Dean knew the cause of it. Why? Because I felt it when he looked at me and our daughter, and never bothered to tell me.

Like the flick of a switch, the worried, guilty expression that held refuge on his face was swiped clean into an irritated look. "Right, thanks for the not-so-subtle hint, Dr. Phil." Dean grumbled out, "But everything's good on the home front."

"Is it?" Sam deadpanned with a raised brow.

Dean's head dipped with a cocky expression gracing his features, "Yep. Peachy. A-Okay." I felt Sam's eyes on me and I squirmed uncomfortably, "Aren't we, Abs?"

I forced myself to smile, "Never better, like peas and carrots."

"See?" Dean stated, getting increasingly smug at my response, "All good."

Sam sat back with a resigned look, shaking his head at us. "You two are unbelievable." He huffed out. A flurry of emotions formed an uncomfortable knot in my stomach. I could've thrown myself out of the barreling car and felt better than what I was going through! Then out of the swirling chaos, I felt a deep sense of longing as Dean's right hand left the steering wheel, taking my hand from my lap, and held it tightly as if it were his lifeline.

Glancing at me once more, I could see how worried he was about _us_. We weren't fine and we both knew that. After a few uncomfortable seconds, I slid across the seat to tuck myself underneath his arm, winding it around me, and laid my head against his shoulder despite the painful clench in my chest.

_Yep, just peachy._ I thought, focusing my eyes on the road with him. _All good on the home font._

Dean scoffed suddenly, "Stuck with those people…" Implying his earlier suggestion of the Roadhouse. "Making awkward small talk until you show up? No thanks." He squeezed his arm around me tightly, "To be honest with you two, I'd rather be back at the NICU." Sam merely grunted in the backseat, yet again, annoyed.

"I second that," I muttered.

* * *

_**Illinois**_

_**Graveyard—Day**_

Three (hair-pulling) hours later, Dean pulled into the cemetery and we got out, heading through a set of old, wrought-iron gates. Dean slowed down a bit, allowing Sam to walk ahead of us. He turned, realizing what was going on.

"I'm only going to take a few minutes." He told us before continuing ahead. Like all cemeteries, they gave me the creeps. Silent, peaceful, a place for rest and—at times—our stomping grounds for desecrating graves. Leaves were beginning to turn colors, nothing drastic, just splotchy places of green and yellow. Typical late-summer foliage.

"You don't have to stay back with me, you know." Dean said gesturing his head over to Sam. We took a moment watching him kneel down at a headstone. I sunk my hands into my pockets, emphasizing a sigh.

"I'm good with stayin' here." Dean arched a brow at me as we walked away from our spot, "'sides, it's not my place."

"Why do you say that?" He asked me, "You knew Mom."

I shrugged, "I knew _of_ her, I didn't _know_ her like my Mom and Dad did." Further away from Sam, I began to become utterly uncomfortable.

"Would you go—" I knew where his question was going and I stopped, narrowing my eyes at him.

"_No_." Dean blinked at me.

"You mean, you wouldn't even go to their graves?" He asked, genuinely confused.

I shook my head, "Not a chance…I don't even know if they have graves." I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and folded my arms, wincing at the pull of my stitches. Dean only nodded, understanding. It was one of the things about Dean that set him apart from his brother—he didn't push or pull like Sam did. _There's always a reason behind someone not going back_, he once said. I knew my reason, he knew his and I felt it. Overburdened with guilt.

Dean's eyes fell to my chest, "How you holding up?"

"It itches." I replied simply, knowing he was asking about my stitches. We paused under a tree, allowing Dean to reach out and pull my shirt down a hair to see the stitches for himself. His fingers brushed against my skin oh-so delicately, raising goose bumps all over my body as he maneuvered the shirt lower until it reached the end of gash, fingering the material of my shirt absently.

I took the time to inspect his face while he was preoccupied, seeing that most of the bruising he got from his brawl with Gordon was fading into a light shade of yellow while most of his cuts were basically healed. Dean then let out a grunt of approval, pulling me away from my own inspection.

"Well, it looks like it's healing alright." He muttered letting go of the collar of my shirt. Those impeccable eyes of his trailed up to mine, regarding the rest of my face with a deep frown. His hand came up to my face, tracing his calloused thumb along my bottom lip until he came to the area where my lip was split. Dean's eyes held a stricken look in them, ashamed even, then tipped his head, capturing my lips with his in a sweet, heartfelt kiss.

Eagerness flowed through him, wanting to know that things were okay as he swept his tongue across my lip—searching for some kind of a response. I was hesitant at first, then I relented, granting him access. His lips and tongue played me perfectly, knowing the right caresses, when to move with me; it was an innocent gesture, but downright sinful. It wasn't even ten seconds when a surge of fear and alarm coursed through him and into me, causing the both of us to jerk back, wide eyed.

"Dean?" I breathed out, alarmed, "What is it?"

His eyes were dilated and frantic for a split second before realization struck him, "Nothing…I-I, uh, didn't want to…hurt you. Split lip and all." I furrowed my brows, knowing that was a straight up lie. It had been done before on _several_ occasions, henceforth our intimate days coming to a screeching halt. One second we'd be all for it, and _boom_, Dean was making up excuses to not follow through, leaving me in the bed feeling his fear and hurt residing in him.

"Somethin's wrong," I prompted.

His lips spread out in a reassuring grin, "Babe, everything's fine." He kissed my forehead tenderly before holding his in place with mine, "Promise."

I furrowed my brows at him, "And yet, you leave me hangin' several times." His smile faded at my words, "Dean, tell me what's wrong."

"You wouldn't understand," he said softly. I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped at that.

"_What_?" I breathed out in disbelief. Dean sighed at me, "Then _enlighten_ me, Dean. Try to make me understand."

Dean averted my eyes, taking in our surroundings, "It's not that easy, Abs."

My chest clenched painfully, "Not that easy?" I scoffed, shaking my head in condescension, "Not that easy." I worked my jaw oddly, running my tongue along my bottom teeth quickly, "And then you wonder why our relationship's in the shitter—you won't talk to me."

His eyes widened for a split second, like he'd been slapped. "Abs, c'mon." He scoffed out, "No it's not." Dean attested with his usual infuriatingly lighthearted half-grin, however, it faded when I folded my arms and didn't recant my statement. That was when he started to become uncomfortable. "Don't do this."

I narrowed my eyes at him, "Then talk." Dean opened his mouth, only to clamp it shut, averting his eyes. He was ashamed about something—scared of it even—causing a little monster pop into my head, speaking over all of the whispering and humming. _He's going to leave you_._ You're not worth his time. _I shoved that thought down, readily ignoring it. That wasn't it, he'd never do that to me and Megan. I _knew_ he wouldn't do that kind of thing. _Then what else can it be_?

"Trust me when I say this, Abs, I-I can't…" He said lightly, "Just-just whatever you do…don't give up on us."

"You told me if somethin' was botherin' me, to talk to you, _no matter what_." I recited his words to him. _His_. "_You're_ botherin' me, and I want. To know. Why." Dean's eyes fell to a gravestone marked as 'Loving Father', licking his lips and glanced back at me, pensive. It was eating at him, until Dean's eyes flickered behind me, his face skewing into a look of curiosity.

"What is that?" He asked suddenly, and I turned, spotting a dying tree.

_Huh. That's unusual._ I considered it, tilting my head as curiosity and uneasiness plagued me, casting away all signs of our oncoming argument from moments before as we approached it. That uneasy, _spidey senses going apeshit crazy_ feeling was eating at me as I reached up to the tree, knocking on it consideringly. It was deader than four o'clock. "Abs…look."

I turned, arching my brow at him, "What?" His eyes directed mine to where I was standing. Brown grass crunched under my feet, and around us in a perfect circle. He kneeled down, fingering the dead grass before looking over to see a gravestone—it was recent placed there. I approached it, crouching down to take a look at the dead flowers. _Well shit_. Straightening up, I looked around for someone who possibly knew this person, catching sight of an older man dressed in a gray security suit.

I approached him with Dean following close behind, "Uh, excuse me, sir?" He turned around with raised brows, "We're sorry to bother you, but, uh, we came to pay our respects to our mother, and we couldn't help but notice that grave over there."

"Oh, yeah…That's Angela Mason." He replied. I caught a twinge of sadness from him and frowned, "Poor girl. She used to be a student at the local college here. Her dad's a professor there. Had her funeral three days ago." His eyes glazed over, "It's tragic when someone so young leaves this world too early."

"I can't help but ask, but did you use pesticides on this particular area?" Dean chimed in, throwing cautious glances to the gravesite. We were both hoping that it was pesticides and not something else.

The man shook his head, "No, nothing. Kills off what flowers the tenants' family brings." He took another look to Angela's grave, "It's a shame everything around is dying."

I pressed my lips into a weak smile, "Thanks for your time." He handed Dean a card, and we turned, heading towards Sam, "I think we just found ourselves a job…" I said, glancing over to him.

"Yeah, no kidding." Dean muttered, meeting my eyes. I shook my head feeling a little agitated that this one sprung up on us so close to Megan's surgery, but nonetheless, a little eager to have found one. Especially now since I was about to rip Dean's stupid head off. Sam met us halfway appearing to be confused.

"Angela Mason. She was a student at the local college; funeral was three days ago." Dean informed him as we started to walk together.

"_And_?" he asked, curious as to where this was going.

Dean let out a huff, "And? Dude, you shoulda saw her grave."

"Everythin's dead around it—in a perfect circle. You honestly can't tell us that there's nothin' weird goin' on." I quipped, seeing his naïve look.

"Maybe the groundskeeper went a little agro with the pesticide." He said with a shrug. I could've fallen over dead at how naïve he was being! Instead, I looked over to Dean with wide, disbelieving eyes. _Was this really happening_?

"No, Sammy. I asked him, _we_ asked him." Dean stepped in, gesturing between us, "No pesticide, no chemicals. Nobody can explain it." We took a moment to pause in front of the Impala.

"Okay, so what are you guys thinking?" Sam asked, looking to each of us for the next move.

I shrugged, "I dunno. Unholy ground, maybe?"

"Un—" Sam's brows rose in an incredulous look.

I scrunched my face at him, "What?" I demanded, "If somethin' evil happened there, it could easily poison the ground."

Dean nodded to back me up, smacking Sam's shoulder, "Remember the, the farm outside of Cedar Rapids?"

Sam nodded slowly, unsure, "Yeah, but-"

"Could be the sign of a demonic presence. Or the, the Angela girl's spirit, if it's powerful enough." Sam considered this with a short nod of his head, turning away to get into the Impala. Dean turned to me, frustrated, and turned back to look at Sam, "Well, don't get too excited, you might pull something."

"It's just... stumbling onto a hunt? _Here_, of all places?" Sam pointed out, going full-on Dr. Phil. I rolled my eyes at him, wandering around the Impala to the rear passenger door.

Dean remained towards the front, resting on the roof, "So?"

"So - are you sure this is about a hunt, and not about something else?" Sam asked.

Dean narrowed his eyes at him, "What else would it be about?" A thought clicked in my head, instantly understanding Sam's question. I highly doubted it was what he thought it was.

Sam sighed heavily, shaking his head at his brother, "You know, just forget it."

"Sam, if this happens to actually be somethin', we're leavin' innocent people behind in harm's way." I reasoned, earning a look from both of them. They were surprised, Sam especially.

Dean, however, went with it, "You believe what you want, Sam, but - we let you drag our asses out here; the least we could do is check this out before Megan's surgery."

"Yeah. Fine." He sighed, reluctant. Dean grinned, patting the roof of the car before sidling in.

"Girl's dad works in town. He's a professor at the school." I informed Sam from the back as Dean cranked the ignition switch, the engine of the Impala rumbling to life. The drive to the local college was actually pretty short. It was literally a hop, skip, and a jump away—maybe a block or so.

* * *

Finding Angela's father's office was a short find as well since the building was small, no bigger than the last high school that we went to, and I graduated from. Dean knocked on the window that had faded, yellow lettering across it. A short, gray-haired man answered, looking to the three of us expectantly.

"Dr. Mason?" I asked.

He looked me up and down, "Yes?"

"I'm Abigail." I introduced, "This is Sam, and this is Dean." Nodding to Sam and Dean respectively, "We were friends of Angela's." Dr. Mason's hard look softened to a look of sorrow, the feeling was overwhelming; familiar. I swallowed down a lump in my throat, "We wanted to offer our condolences."

"Please, come in." He offered, taking a step to the side to let us in. Entering his office, Dr. Mason closed the door behind us, as we took our seats on a couch in the order of: Dean, me, and Sam, while he pulled something off his desk. Sitting down in front of us, he handed me the book since I was the one in between the two boys.

My heart grew heavier by the minute, flipping the album open so Sam go look at it, "She was beautiful." Sam murmured, glancing up to Dr. Mason while Dean made for the bookshelves, fingering each one with a skeptical look.

"Yes, she was." He agreed. I glanced up from the album to see Dean paging through a book in his hands; he seemed focused.

"This is an unusual book." Dean chirped, showing us the cover of the book. It had carving of Greek letters and a triangular symbol on it.

"It's ancient Greek; I teach a course." Dr. Mason replied as Dean looked back down at it curiously before putting it back on the shelf to rejoin us on the couch.

"So a car accident, that's—that's horrible." I spoke up as Dean wedged himself beside me and the couch.

Dr. Mason bowed his head, "Angie was only a mile away from home when, uh ..."

_She died._ I mused.

"It's gotta be hard. Losing someone like that." Dean spoke, "Sometimes it's like they're still around. Almost like you can still sense their presence." Sam and I looked to Dean, concerned. Like the stubborn, know it all, Dean ignored our looks. "You ever feel anything like that?" He asked.

"I do, as a matter of fact." Dr. Mason replied brokenly.

Sam continued to stare Dean down, almost shooting daggers at him. "That's perfectly normal, Dr. Mason. Especially with what you're going through."

"You know, I still phone her." I nodded understandingly, forcing myself to not backtrack into the past on a potential job, "And the phone's ringing before I remember that, uh ..." He couldn't finish his sentence, then licked his lips, "Family's everything, you know?" I let my eyes flicker over to Dean for a moment before focusing back onto the grieving father, "Angie was the most important thing in my life. And now I-I'm just lost without her."

"We're very sorry." Sam said, speaking up when Dean nor I did. I understood the feeling perfectly, dropping my eyes to the floor in a guilty expression, relishing in the painful sorrow this man was going through—it was as if his heart was cut out from his chest.

* * *

_**Motel Room—Night**_

"I'm telling you, there's something going on here. We just haven't found it yet." Dean insisted, looking to Sam from across the room. I was sitting on his bed with John's journal in my lap, leafing through the pages in search of a possible answer.

"Guys, so far you've got a patch of dead grass and nothing." I looked up from the journal, earning a surprised look from Sam in the mirror. Apparently my bitchface was on full-effect. Seriously though, his skepticism was beginning to get on my damn nerves!

"Well, _somethin_' turned that grave into unholy ground," I quipped, returning the same amount of sarcasm.

"There's no reason for it to be unholy ground, Abigail." He dried his face off with a towel, "Angela Mason was a nice girl who died in a car crash. That's not exactly vengeful spirit material. You heard her father." He exited the bathroom, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, well, maybe Daddy doesn't know everything there is to know about his little angel, huh?" Dean quipped with a grin, only to realize how that came out, and considered something. With raised brows, I suspected from the pursed lips and deflated, almost kicking himself, expression, he recanted his sentence putting Megan into consideration instantly throwing himself into a pissy mood.

"You know what? We never should have bothered that poor man. We shouldn't even be here anymore." Sam argued, tossing down his towel as his voice became laced with agitation. "Megan's surgery is going to be here before we know it."

"You don't think Abs and I don't know that?" Dean leaned forward in his chair, "Dude, we can't just bail on this though," He shook his head determinedly at Sam, "Not without figuring what's going on."

Sam glanced between him and to me, then nodded with a knowing smirk. I arched my brow at him. "I think I know what's going on here." Dean threw a confused glance at me. I shrugged at him, "It's the only reason I went along with you this far, Dean."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked.

"Sam, don't—" I tried to speak up.

"This is about Mom's grave." Dean let out a scoff—a flurry of emotions swirled around in my stomach like a chaotic typhoon—as he stood up, facing his back to Sam and me.

I groaned, rolling my eyes at the youngest Winchester, "Here we go." I muttered, shaking my head as I leafed through another page.

"Sam, that's got nothing to do with it, Abigail can back me up on this one." He said quietly, anger bubbling beneath his words in a quiet warning.

Sam took a few steps towards his brother, "Dean, you wouldn't step within a hundred yards of it. Look. Maybe you're imagining a hunt where there isn't one so you don't have to think about Mom. Or Dad." Dean turned to look at him, face mottled crimson. I slowly closed the journal, setting it off to the side, staring at the two brothers warily. Sam sighed, remaining as still as a cadaver, "You wanna take another swing? Take a chance on hurting Abigail again?" He challenged as Dean's eyes flickered over to me. I had slinked my way within jerking distance to break whatever fight may come up. Instead, he just worked his jaw in an odd manner.

His head barely moved as he shook it, sending the both of us dark glares. "I don't need this crap." I watched him closely as he stalked over to the dresser grabbing his jacket and keys, heading for the door.

"Dean, where're you goin'?" I asked, meeting his stoic look.

"I'm going to go get a drink." He replied in a brusque manner, "_Alone_." There was a painful clench in my chest, jumping slightly when he slammed the door behind him, leaving me and Sam behind in the room.

"Yeah, well, piss on you too, Dean Winchester." I muttered, blowing an agitated breath out. Sam flung his hands out of exasperation.

"I can't believe him. No, wait, I _can_." Sam spat out, twisting around to look at me. "He needs to get over this, Abigail." Sam said heatedly, pacing around the room, "I mean, this is taking things to a whole 'nother level! It's all in his head!"

"Sam," I said lightly, "We have somethin', not a whole lot, but it's there." His eyes flashed with skepticism, "My spidey senses were off the charts. You gotta give us more time."

Sam let out a scoff, "More time? Abigail, you do realize that surgery is Monday?"

"No, Sam. I didn't. Thanks for tellin' me." I replied sarcastically, folding my arms across my chest, wincing. He let out an agitated breath, kicking the edge of the bed to let out his frustration, "We have time to figure this out and be back. Hopefully in the next couple of days."

Sam threw an exasperated glance at me over his shoulder, "Has he at least talked to you?" I stared at him in a deadpan, "Said anything to you at all?"

I shook my head, "No. Nothin'."

Sam's eyes went to the ceiling with a grunt, "He's being irresponsible, Abigail…" I closed my eyes, ignoring Sam's waves of continuous ranting, only feeling his exceeding amount of exasperation. He was struggling with his emotions, it was back and forth like a game of tennis.

"Sam! It's been six weeks!" I chastised him, probably cutting him off in mid-rant. I didn't really care at the moment. "You can't just wake up one day and say that you're not gonna grieve about somebody anymore." Shame trickled down my spine, matching the expression on his face. I held my arm out to him, "Jesus, Sam. I know you're hurtin' and I know Dean's hurtin'. Ya'll are dealin' with Dad's death in your own ways."

"How are you dealing with it?" Sam asked quietly.

_I want to beat my head into the wall, drink myself into a coma and never wake up_. I thought, "I'm toleratin' it." His eyes went to the ceiling. I did the same, "I know, I know—you two are just alike." Sam's eyes fell onto me with a tight-lipped expression, "You gotta think Sammy, I've been grievin' a long time about my family—twelve years—but I never fully got to _grieve_. I-I just guess with Dad…" My eyes dropped to the ground and I shook my head, "I'm dealin' with things in my own way, too." _Like always._

"Yeah…I guess." He muttered, lowering himself on his bed with an audible sigh. That little flame Sam was holding onto in an attempt to rant and rave about Dean's behavior simmered down into a tiny ember, calming down into something more along the lines of concern. His eyes peered at me through his shaggy, brown hair. "Abigail, there's more going on between you and Dean." I remained standing, however, turning to have my back face him. Crossing my right arm under my breasts, I brought my left hand up to my mouth, chewing on the skin around my thumbnail, "A _lot_ more than what you two lead on."

"We're fine, Sam." I muttered.

"There you go again, Abigail." His hand slapped against his thigh, agitated.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, taking my hand away from my mouth.

"It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that you and my brother are on the verge of a breakdown, Abigail." He told me pointedly, "The way you two fight and argue—it's as bad as it was _before_ you two were together. You need to—"

I held my hand up at him to silence him, "Don't tell me that I need to talk to 'im, Sam, or so help me I'll make sure you wake up with a clown in your bed." Sam's face blanched out of fear. I sighed, "To be real honest with you, Sammy…We're pickin' up the wrong pieces at the wrong time, and—and," I wiped away a stray tear, "I think Dean's hidin' somethin'…"

"What makes you say that?" I shrugged at him, not really able to place my finger on it.

"I dunno. He just makes up excuses mid-fling, says he can't…I try to get him to talk, and it's just a dead end. Again, he just says he can't, that I won't understand…" I took a sharp intake of breath, "Sometimes I think… that he's gonna leave, or that he's doin' he's not supposed to."

Sam stood up, "Abigail, Dean would never leave you and Megan. There'd be no way!" Blind confidence welled up in my chest—it wasn't mine, which brought tears to my eyes. His voice softened, "I'm not saying that Dean hasn't…you know, been faithful in the past, but that wasn't with you, Abigail. You know that."

I opened my mouth to speak. No, to blurt out what I had been feeling along. Tell him about my new ability. Rather than do that, I clamped it back shut earning a persistent look from my brother, only to avert his gaze. This was my burden. Not his, nor was it Dean's—they had enough on their plate as it was, "I know." I whispered, my voice thick with emotion, "Sam…tell me somethin'."

"Anything." His voice was full of sincerity.

"Tell me about what really happened while I was out." Anguish coated me like a blanket, "Cause Dean won't."

Sam cleared his throat, glancing everywhere in the room, and shifted around, "You were, uh, _out_."

I pressed my lips together in a line, "That's pretty vague, Sam." He smiled at me sheepishly, remaining uncomfortable.

"Look, Abs…a lot of things happened." He recounted, "You scared us a couple of times, and we-we weren't sure you were gonna make it." His eyes glittered from unspent tears.

"So, I shoulda never pulled through that coma?" I muttered.

"No. That's not what I'm saying." Sam closed the space between us. His arms encased me in a tight hug. But he was lying. _I was supposed to die,_ "Look, all I'm saying is that you're here and fine, and-and Megan's here, and she's fine."

"But, what if I'm the reason Dad's dead?" Sam's body stiffened against mine, falling eerily silent. Like he was _considering _that. My face crumpled at the sheer thought of it.

"No." He affirmed me, "No way."

I stepped back, out of his embrace, "Sam, this doesn't make any sense!" I shoved my hair back out of my face, "It doesn't feel right! This-this whole thing!" I started to breathe heavily, "I didn't feel right when I pulled through, and then Dad dies a few hours later?" Sam avoided looking at me as I threw my hands up in the air, feeling hopelessly lost, "Sam, what the hell happened?"

He said nothing further. Instead, he simply grabbed clothes from his bag, and stalked off to the bathroom where he shut and locked the door. Angry, I dug out clothes of my own bag when the clattering sound of my pain killers falling out alerted me. Like it was poison, I picked them up gingerly, inspecting the orange and yellow bottle in my hand. Tearing my gaze away from the bottle when the shower kicked on, I licked my lips in a pensive fashion, dropping my gaze back down at the prescription.

_One shouldn't hurt…at least, not right now._ I mused, considering the possibilities of taking one to ease my nerves. Lord knows I was fried. Then I was bathed in a shroud of guilt…I mean, look how far I had come in seven—going on eight—years. I cringed as another wave of anger split through me, then sorrow. _People and their damn emotions_. It was a constant migraine considering that the entire town was about to drive me insane.

The longer I held the bottle, knowing what effect it had on me when I used it, the heavier it became. After another wave of sorrow hit me like a ton of bricks, I broke down. I twisted the cap off and dumped out a little white pill. In my gut, it wasn't the right thing. Every part of me was screaming out no, including the humming and whispering. This was just the case that all the liquor in the world could numb it down.

I leaned my head back, throwing my hand that contained the Vicodin to my mouth, and chewed. Between each crunch, it presented a god awful taste, _just like I remembered_, swallowing the contents with a grimace. Not bothering with climbing into bed, wait for Sam to start back in on his rants, or have Dean stumble back in three sheets to the wind; I slipped the bottle of Vicodin into my jacket pocket and went out of the motel room to take a walk. You know, see the sights, visit the graves, and possibly catch a whiff of supernatural escapades to prove Sam that Dean wasn't crazy.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Angela's House—Day**_

I stood outside the apartment of the late Angela Mason's apartment, carding the door. Slowly opening it, I slipped inside taking notice of how clean the place was—of course it would be clean. Picking up a framed picture of Angela, I caught a glimpse of a figure in the reflection of the glass. I turned, just as she jumped and screamed.

"Who the hell are you?!" Her voice was full of panic, turning and shut herself in a room just as I turned to give her an excuse.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, hold on!" I called out, holding my hands in a non-threatening gesture.

"I'm calling 9-1-1!" She called out. She wasn't stupid.

I had to think fast. "I'm Angela's cousin!" I blurted out.

Silence. "What?" The girl asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, her dad sent me over to, uh," I cleared my throat, glancing around the place, "pick up her stuff, my name's Alan? Alan Stanwick?"

The girl opened the door, peering out of the crack with confusion written on her face, "Her dad didn't say that you were coming."

"Well, I mean," I held up my keys at her, "How else would I the key to your place?" It wasn't five minutes me and the girl, Lindsey, were in the living room. She sat on the couch across from me, sobbing. Needless to say, I was slightly uncomfortable. Slightly didn't begin to cover it. I reached out, pulling a Kleenex out of the box handing it to her.

_Abigail's so much better at this._ I thought with pursed lips, _Where the hell was she?_ I half-expected her to waltz through the front door any moment, but that wasn't going to happen. I cleared my throat, "So. I'm sure you got a, a view of Angela that none of the family got to see. Tell me, what, what was she like? I mean, what was she really like?"

Lindsey swallowed hard, looking up at me through tear soaked lashes. "She was great." She sniffled, "Just great. I mean, she was so... so..."

"Great?" I finished for her.

She nodded her head, "Yeah." Then she started sobbing again. _Good Lord._ "Yeah."

"Yeah." I muttered, offering her another tissue, "Here you go. You two must have been really close, huh?"

Lindsey nodded, "We were." She agreed, then shook her head, "But it's not just her, it's Matt."

I blinked, "Who?"

"Angela's boyfriend." She spoke in an obvious voice.

I nodded, "Right, Matt. What about him?"

"He killed himself last night. He cut his own throat." I sat back, stunned. That's what I'd been looking for. Proof. "Who does that?" Lindsey asked.

"That's - terrible." I mused, thoughts wandering.

"He was taking Angela's death pretty hard, and I guess... I mean, he'd been messed up about it for days." She confessed taking another tissue from me.

"Messed up how?" I pressed.

"He kept saying that he saw her everywhere." I frowned at that, it made sense. Tied to her father back at the college with his statement of sensing her presence. It could just be a sign of grief…_Hm._

"Well, I'm—I'm sure that that's normal, I mean with everything that he was going through." I commented.

"No, he said that he _saw_ her. As in, an acid trip or something." A surge of hope flared up. It was a little unsettling, but it was something. Definitely a vengeful spirit. _Suck on that, Sam._

"Were Angela and Matt a happy couple? I mean, is there any reason that Angela would be angry with him?" I checked, and Lindsey's face scrunched in confusion.

"What? No, of course not, why do you ask?" She asked getting defensive. Now, it wouldn't have struck me odd about her response, but if reacted like that, my money would be on: She's banged Matt.

I laughed a little, "Just asking." This conversation was clearly over, "Where did Matt live?"

"I thought you said you were getting Angela's stuff?" Lindsey queried.

"I'll come back for it later." I said, as she jotted down the address and handed it to me. I glanced at it, nodding to her with a smile. Outside, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, dialing Abigail's number. With narrowed eyes, I paused at Baby, listening to the rings.

"_This is Abigail's _other_, other phone. You know what to do._" I ground my teeth after getting her voicemail, _again_. She was gonna be the death of me!

"Abs, it's me. _Again_." I said flatly, "I don't know where the hell you're at, but you need to answer your phone. I got some dirt on this case." I inhaled feeling a certain three lettered word hang off the tip of my tongue, and rather than just saying it, I choked it back down, "Just, uh…wherever you're at, meet me back at the room. Be careful." I got in, closing the door as I started the engine. Abigail _never_ just up and leave. _Never_. I sincerely hoped she didn't bail on us.

* * *

At the motel, I paused outside the door a moment hearing Casa Erotica Four being announced. Walking through the door, the television was cut off, and Sam sat at the edge of the bed looking at me startled.

"Hey." He said quickly. I entered the room slowly, glancing between the television and Sam. "What?"

"Awkward." It was all I could really sum up the situation.

"Where in the hell were you?" Sam demanded. I rolled my eyes at him, making myself at home.

"Working mine and Abs' imaginary case." I told him. His faced tightened in anger. Like I cared, "Speaking of Abs, has she made it back yet?"

Sam shook his head, "No. Nothing. Been getting her voicemail."

I nodded, "Same here."

"You don't think she left, do you?" I licked my lips, avoiding his gaze. "Dean?" He asked me, voicing his uncertainty.

"I'm not—" The motel room opened, and Abigail waltzed through humming some kind of song, a folder in her hands. Sam jumped to his feet, wide-eyed, staring at me. I didn't know whether to hug her or yell at her. "Abs, where the hell have you been?!"

Abigail practically skipped by me, tossing her jacket onto the bed, "Out and about." She replied, twisting around with a grin, holding out the folder. "Oh, and Sam?" She tossed it on his lap, "Put that in your pipe and smoke it."

He and I stared at the folder, bewildered, "Um…what—where?"

Abigail shrugged, "Doesn't matter. Now, look."

Sam glanced over to me, then proceeded to open the folder, "Matt Harrison. Caucasian. Male." Sam stared to Abigail, "Who is this guy?"

"Angela Mason's ex-old man." His brows rose, as she urged him to continue to read.

"Cause of death, deep lacerations to throat resulting in significant blood loss—" I couldn't hardly believe Abigail managed to pull the autopsy record, "How'd you manage to get this?" Sam asked her.

She smirked, breathing on her nails and scrubbed them against her shirt, "I have my ways."

"So, you know about Matt's throat being slit?" I asked, "How?"

"Pulled a Dean Winchester." I scrunched my face in distaste in her choice of words. _What the hell did that mean_? "Went to a bar, drunk a few rounds. Won a few games of pool, grabbed a coupla numbers, and went for a walk. Then I went to the coroner's office, posed as an off-duty FBI agent, showed a little_ dècolletè_ and got the grand tour." Her shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug, "I did whatever you would do. Did you find anythin'?"

_Did she just throw in French? _I thought, trying to scramble my head for the useless information of a stint I took in high school. _What the hell did that mean?_ However, when I glanced up to meet her expectant gaze, I cleared my throat, "Well, uh…aside from Angela's boyfriend, _Matt_, giving himself a Columbian necktie, since that's, uh, normal."

Sam rolled his eyes at us, "Let's see, what else…" I snapped my fingers, "Oh, he was seeing Angela everywhere before he died. But you know, I'm sure that's just me transferring my own feelings."

Sam's eyes wavered between Abigail and me, "Okay, I get it. I'm sorry, maybe there is something going on here." He conceded.

Abigail's mouth gaped, crossing her arms across her chest, "_Maybe_?" She asked pointedly, "Sam, Dean and I know how to do our jobs, despite what you might think—relationship or no relationship, and whatnot." I glanced at her uneasily, _What did _that_ mean?_

"We should check out the guy's apartment." Sam suggested, only for Abigail to snort.

"Already checked it, like, last night." I furrowed my brows at her. I had just come back from there! "Pile of dead plants, just like the cemetery. Hell, dead goldfish too. Spidey senses were off the charts." Abigail was one step ahead of us, which was impressive. I couldn't help but feel proud of her for that.

"So, unholy ground?" Sam asked.

"Maybe. I'm still not getting that powerful angry spirit vibe from Angela." I said standing up, crossing the room to pick up a pink book I had snatched from Angela's house, "I have been reading this, though."

Abigail's arched her brow at me, "You stole the girl's diary?"

"Yeah, Abs. And if anything, the girl's a little too nice." I commented.

Sam was quiet for a moment, considering everything he's heard from us, "So, what do you want to do?" He finally asked.

"Keep digging, talk to more of her friends." I decided.

"You get any names?" Abigail asked.

"You kidding me?" I looked up at her with a cocky smirk, "I have her _bestest friend in the whole wide world_." I tossed the diary down beside Sam, turning to head back out the door. Abigail was close behind. Outside, I reached out, taking her by the arm, "Spill."

Abigail's brows rose in an innocent gesture, "What?"

"Where were you, Abigail?" I deadpanned, "I called your phone a hundred times last night; Sam's called you a hundred times."

"I was doin' my job, Dean. Helpin' you not look like some crazy idjit." I nodded, though noticed something about her was off. I couldn't quite place my finger on what it was, "'s not like Sam to be this skeptical about things."

"Yeah…" I licked my lips, "So, uh, enlighten me on that _relationship or no relationship_ thing…"

Her lighthearted expression steeled, "I don't wanna talk about it."

"And yet, you won't talk to me…" I mused, reciting what she had told me earlier, looking elsewhere.

"I've _tried_ gettin' you to talk to me, Dean. Every time I try to get a little closer to you, you shut down and the conversation's over."

I rolled my eyes, "How many times do I have to say this? I _can't_—"

"Can't never could!" She snapped, "Y'know, if you want this to be it, then jus' say it and I'll be gone and out your sight." My chest clenched painfully at her words. I stared at her, completely thrown off. "It's obvious we're not okay, Dean. There's somethin' goin' on with you, and I know there is. Is there some—"

"No." I said firmly. That much I could say truthfully, "Abigail, what's possessed you to think that I would _ever_ do something like that to you and Megan? Do you honestly think I would cheat on you?"

Abigail held a firm, unyielding gaze on me, "It wouldn't surprise me, given the way you've been actin'." I stared at her, mouth agape in shock. In her eyes, a flash of emotion went through them, and she suddenly became uncomfortable, pained, "I mean…if that's not the case, Dean—"

"It's not." I ground out.

Silent, she nodded her head. "A'ight." She murmured. Her tone was soft, gentle…but hurt, "I believe you…but whatever you're hidin', I want to know. I want to know that we're gonna be okay, Dean. I want to know what happened while I was out…if this is my fault Dad's dead."

"You're as bad as Sam about hounding me," I told her coolly, "You need to drop it."

"Dean—"

"Drop it!" I barked out, avoiding her gaze. I couldn't stand look at her, and as much as I wanted to tell her everything—every tiny detail of what I was feeling—I couldn't. Instead, anger flowed through me. It wasn't towards her, but towards myself. "I don't need this." I muttered, digging in my coat pocket for my keys.

"Stop pushin' me away, Dean!" Her voice broke with a flurry of emotions, and it hurt. I couldn't bring myself to see what I was doing to her, because I would've scooped her up, kissed her breathless—did everything. I was pushing her away, and I didn't regret it. I didn't want her to get hurt. But the most important thing? I didn't want to lose her.

"Just get in the damn car, Abs." I snapped at her. Sam walked out of the motel room just as she climbed in and slammed the door, _hard_. I cringed at it, wondering how the hell the window didn't shatter from the force. Sam paused, turning his eyes on me, almost knowingly. I worked my jaw oddly as I hung my head, averting my eyes to the ground.

* * *

The drive to Angela's bestest friend in the whole world didn't take long. A half hour perhaps?

"I didn't realize the college employed grief counselors." Neil said to us, voice full of skepticism.

"Oh yeah. Yeah, you talk, we listen. Or maybe throw in a little therapeutic collage, whatever jump-starts the healing." I commented, earning a sharp look from Sam. Abigail? Not so much.

"Well, I think I'm okay. Thanks." He started back to his house.

"Well, you heard what happened to Matt Harrison, right?" Abigail added quickly. Neil's face hardened.

"Yeah, I did." He said stiffly.

"We just wanted to make sure you were okay." Sam stepped in. I threw him a knowing look. His puppy dog eyes were in full effect, "Grief can make people do crazy things."

Neil sighed, "Look, I'm sorry about what happened to him. I am. But if Matt killed himself it wasn't 'cause of grief." He stated, and my eyes snapped to him.

"No? Then why?" I questioned.

Neil turned his eyes on me, almost glowering, "It was guilt. Angie's death was Matt's fault and he knew it."

"How was Matt responsible?" Abigail asked.

"She really loved that guy. But the night of the accident she walked in on him with another girl. She was really torn up, that's why she crashed the car." I turned my head to look at Abigail and Sam as they absorbed what they'd just heard. We now had our motive. Neil looked down at his watch quickly, "Um, look, I gotta get ready for work, so ... thanks for the concern, but... seriously, I'll be okay."

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Street—Day**_

Dean, Sam, and I walked away from Neil's house with fresh eyes. We found our motive, which was now moving things along quickly. This was the one thing I needed to focus on, rather than dwell on the fact that I had hit the bottom. I was so tired, and not only that, I was about hurl. I needed to clear my head to focus on this task at hand, worry about my daughter…

"Well, that vengeful spirit theory's starting to make a little more sense." Dean commented with his hands in his pockets.

"I mean, hell hath no fury..." I added, earning an uncomfortable look from both Sam and Dean. I had felt everything back at the motel. Again, he was lying—but not about cheating on me, that was clear.

"So if Angela got her revenge on Matt, you think it's over?" Sam asked, looking at Dean from across the roof of the Impala.

Dean shrugged, "Well, there's one way to be sure." We got in the car.

"Yeah? What's that?" He asked.

I already knew what Dean was thinking, "We do what we do best when it comes to this, burn the bones."

"Burn the bones?" Sam echoed with a scoff, "Are you high?" I fell silent. "Angela died last _week_!"

"So?" Dean voiced.

"So, there's not gonna be bones." He chastised, "There's gonna be a ripe, rotting body in the coffin."

"Since when are you afraid to get dirty? Huh?" I said uneasily, trying to hide my discomfort with a smile. Instead, I got weirded out looks from both Sam and Dean.

"Since when are you wanting to be a graveyard without complaining?" Sam shot back. I pursed my lips at him. _Well, shit._

* * *

_**Graveyard—Night**_

A few hours had gone by as night shrouded us in a comforting darkness. I stood above Sam and Dean, watching as they dug the rectangular perimeter of Angela's grave. Both men were panting and sweating from exertion, Dean throwing me glances every now and then. After an hour or so of digging, as well as swapping out with Sam for the last few feet, Dean and I stood in the grave, well, on the coffin to be exact while he cleared off the rest of the dirt.

"Ladies first." He quipped, turning to me.

I smirked, "You hear 'im, Sammy? Ladies first."

Sam glared at the both of us, increasingly irritated at our back and forth banter, "Hold that." He said after jumping back into the grave, handing me the light. I hoisted myself out, only to sit at the edge, peering in with a pensive expression on my face. My spidey senses were off the charts. I felt Sam's apprehension as he slowly opened the coffin, wincing in preparation from the possibility of a fresh corpse—but upon inspection, my worst fears were confirmed. The coffin was empty.

"They buried the body four days ago." Dean scratched his head out of confusion, "Tell me we don't have a zombie thing goin' on." I implored, pulling my bottom lip in between my teeth. Dean glanced up to me, amused.

"I don't get it." Sam muttered, miffed about the sudden disappearance of a body buried four days ago.

Something in the light of the flashlight I was holding caught my attention. I shifted in my spot, leaning forward a smidge to look, "Hey. What's that?" I asked, earning curious looks from Sam and Dean. They glanced at me, then down at the coffin, revealing a piece of ripped cloth. Dean crouched, tearing at the cloth more to reveal carvings with ancient symbols.

Dean furrowed his brows, "What _is_ that?"

"I'm not sure." Sam said thoughtfully. Their gazes fell on me and I shrugged, I was stumped. A little more apprehensive than anything.

Vague familiarity washed over me. "I've seen these kind of symbols before." Dean said, straightening up. He knew something was up, and where to find answers. Anger coursed through Dean as he pounded heavily on the door to Dr. Mason's house. Agitated was the nicest term that could come to mind, with the next being highly pissed.

"Dean." I was probably the last person he wanted to hear from right now, however, when I touched his shoulder, his body relaxed somewhat. "Take it easy, okay?" Before Dean could reply, or smart off, Dr. Mason opened the door wearing a gray t-shirt and a checkered robe.

"You're Angie's friends, right?" He looked half-annoyed, half-curious as to why we were standing at his doorstep at an ungodly hour of the night.

"Dr. Mason..." Sam began gently.

"We need to talk." Dean cut in, rather brusque. Sam and I shot him a meaningful look that went unnoticed.

"Well, then, come in." He stepped to the side, allowing us to step into his house. Reaching the living room, Dean turned to face him.

"You teach Ancient Greek. Tell me—" He unfolded the paper with the carvings on it, "What are these?" Dr. Mason looked at the symbols confused, glancing up to each of us confused.

"I don't understand." He began, "You said this had something to do with Angela."

"It does." Dean answered curtly, "Please, just humor me."

Dr. Mason looked down at the paper once more, "They're part of an ancient Greek divination ritual."

"Used for necromancy, right?" I asked.

He nodded in confirmation, "That's right."

"See, before we came over here we stopped by the library and did a little homework ourselves." Dean explained, "Apparently they used rituals like this one for communicating with the dead. Even bringing corpses back to life. Full-on zombie action." I shifted uncomfortably at the thought of zombies. Ugh.

"Yes." Dr. Mason nodded his head, then tilted it, "I mean, according to the legends. Now, what's all this about?" I was fixated on Dr. Mason's face. He was innocent.

"I think you know." Dean pushed.

"Dean." I warned.

He ignored me, "Look, I get it. Okay? There are people that I would give _anything_ to see again." _John and Mary_. I was blindsided by agony and anger, "But what gives you the right?" I had to take a step back, to bite my tongue. Sam took a step forward, placing his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Dean!" Sam's hand tightened.

"What are you talking about?" Dr. Mason didn't have clue what Dean was saying.

He jerked away from Sam's grasp, turning to him, anger and pain residing in his impeccable green eyes. They flickered over to me, lingering a second longer as resentment and fear overcame me. Dean turned back to face the bewildered man, "What's dead should stay dead!"

That was when I fully understood everything. _I shoulda died._ _Dad shoulda lived._

Dr. Mason glared at Dean defensively, "What?!"

"Stop it!" Sam shouted, trying to get Dean to calm down. I couldn't hardly breathe. It _was_ me. I swallowed hard, feeling utterly helpless…_so _lost. If I was supposed to die, then why didn't I?

"What you brought back isn't even your daughter anymore. These things are vicious, they're violent, they're so nasty they rot the ground around them!" Dean shouted, enraged, "I mean, come on, haven't you seen _Pet Semetery_?"

"You're insane." The professor tried to remain calm.

"Where is she?" Dean demanded as Dr. Mason stalked past us, picking up the phone threateningly.

"Get out of my house." He growled out, dialing the phone. Dean knocked it out of his hand.

"I know you're hiding her somewhere. Where is she?!" He bellowed as Sam pushed him back away while I lingered back.

"Dean! Stop, that's enough! Dean, look!" He grabbed Dean's jacket, pointing to a row of vibrant, living plants by the window, "Beautiful, living plants." Sam looked to Dr. Mason apologetically, "We're leaving."

"I'm calling the police." Dean pulled away from Sam's grip and stormed for the door. I remained in my spot, stunned. I didn't even hear the rest of the conversation until Sam's hand gripped my arm, dragging me behind him quickly until we were outside and on the sidewalk.

"What the hell is the matter with you, Dean?" He exclaimed, flinging his arms out.

Dean glared at him, pointing a finger, "Back off."

"That man is innocent! He didn't deserve that!" Sam argued, eyes flashing in anger.

"Okay, so she's not here, maybe he's keeping her somewhere else." Dean shot back, refusing to admit that he just made a really bad call, and almost paid for it.

Sam shook his head furiously, "Stop it! That's enough, okay? Enough!"

"Sam, I know what I'm doing." He snarled out.

"No, you don't. At all." He argued, "Dean, I don't scare easy, but man, you're scaring the crap out of me." Sam said, reeling.

"Don't be overdramatic, Sam." Dean scoffed out.

"Overdramatic?" Sam scoffed out as well, "You're lucky this turned out to be a real case. Because if it wasn't, you would have just found something else to kill! The _both_ of you!" He shouted, focusing on the both of us. I blinked out of my stupor, staring at Sam, bewildered.

"What—?" Dean and I said in chorus.

"The both of you are on edge, you're erratic - except for when you're around Megan or hunting. It's different around her, but when you're hunting, that's when you two are downright scary." Sam stated, "You're tail spinning, guys." He turned angry eyes to his brother, "You're relationship is _failing_ because you refuse to talk about it with Abigail, and you two won't let me help you!"

"We can take care of ourselves and _our _relationship, _thanks_." Dean interrupted him hotly.

Sam let out a condescending scoff, "No, you can't. Neither of you can! The only thing you two care about are yourselves when you have a three week old daughter fighting for her life every day!" Dean averted his eyes, chewing on the inside of his cheek while I remained stuck in a stunned expression, "Are you two really that selfish?! Don't you two care about each other anymore?" Sam's breathing was erratic, quick as he glared between us.

"Sam—" I finally managed to say.

"And you know what?" He cut me off, staring Dean down with narrowed eyes, "You're the only ones who thinks you should have to face this. Truth is, you guys don't have to handle this on your own. No one can."

"Sam, if you bring up Dad's death one more time I swear..." Dean cut in, warning him.

"Stop! Please, Dean. Abigail." His eyes went to us, pleading, "It's killing you two. _Please._ We've already lost Dad. We've lost Mom. Abigail lost her entire family. I've lost Jessica. And now Megan and I are going to lose you guys, too?" Sam asked, reaching his hand out in a gesture. I couldn't stand to look at him, fighting back every urge to cry. It was there too, ready and waiting. Dean looked to Sam, contemplative as several emotions passed through his eyes. It was guilt, shame, and few other ones.

After a few minutes, Dean shifted uncomfortably, looking around, "We better get out of here before the cops come." Sam frowned deeply at him. He sighed, "I hear you. Okay?"

Sam glanced over to me, I slowly nodded to show that I was listening. "I hear ya, Sammy." His lips pressed into a small whisper of a smile. Dean glanced to me, guilty as well.

"Yeah, I'm being an ass. And I'm sorry." He admitted, "To the both of you. But right now we've got a fuckin' zombie running around, and we need to figure out how to kill it." Sam's tiny smile broke out into a grin, bowing his head forward with a breathy laugh before Dean turned to me once he figured out I didn't reply in the same way. He looked deeply troubled. "Right?" I bit my lip, meeting his gaze, and nodded.

"Our lives are weird, man." Sam said, shaking his head.

"You're telling me? Come on." He said, gesturing Sam to go ahead of us. Dean then approached me, almost seeming hesitant when he paused in front of me, leaving a few feet between us. I looked up at him like a wounded animal, sensing that he was fighting with himself on something. He didn't have to speak, I got it. "Abs, I'm not good at this kind of thing…"

"You don't have to apologize to me, Dean…" I replied curtly, "In fact, I understand it all." _I shoulda died, and Dad shoulda lived, but I'm gonna get it out of you one way or another._

* * *

_**Motel Room—Night**_

Sam had gone to store to get some food, according to Dean, but what store is open at fifteen till two other than Walmart? I was in the bathroom—door locked—and silently pulling out a Vicodin from the bottle. I popped it in my mouth, chewing it. After swallowing, I ran the sink so I could scoop out water and swish my mouth out, ridding myself of the god awful taste before I had to walk out and face Dean. He was his usual, brooding self; not speaking, avoiding all questions, and avoiding me—like usual. I stayed a moment longer in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror.

_What's dead should stay dead_…That's what he said. Back at Dr. Mason's house, I had felt Dean's resentment and fear. _Was I the reason for all of this? Is he blaming me for John?_ I couldn't think straight in this motel room—not with Dean nearby. Ignoring him as he ignored me, I went out to walk around the motel. It had a pool nearby. Anyone could smell it a mile away. Making it to the pool, I hopped over the gates, seeing no one outside. I mean it was two o'clock in the morning for God's sake, no one other than us should've been up.

My thoughts were jumbled, I felt great. The voices and whispering were muted, the constant nagging of emotions were numbed down to a faint roar—this was damn near perfect considering the constant hell I've felt. I kicked off my shoes, peeling away my jacket, setting them on the cement near the edge of the pool. I then peeled off my jeans, revealing a pair of boy shorts that were vaguely similar to swimming bottoms, and that was what I wore when I lowered myself into the water, beginning to do laps around the pool.

It was something to do until Sam came back as my laps turned into how long I could hold my breath underwater. _What's dead should stay dead_! Dean's voice bellowed in my head around the fifth time I came up, gasping for air. It occurred to me that I needed to see if Dean wanted me dead or alive. I submerged myself once more, holding my breath until my lungs were screaming in protest for me to break the surface. I didn't move; I closed my eyes and just let myself be suspended in the water.

I could hear someone's muffled shouts. As it got closer, the shouting got more frantic, worried. Judging by the crippling fear that coursed through me, I knew it had to be Dean. Muffled by the water, I had never heard him sound or feel that scared before. Remaining still, there was a splash that shook my suspended body, almost sending me back to the surface of the pool until I felt a pair of arms drag me up, and was lifted out of the pool, being placed on the rough concrete. I felt his trembling fingers move my wet hair out of my face.

"Abigail?" he lightly shook my shoulders. "Come on, Abs. Breathe." He whispered, voice thick with poignant fear. I felt his hand slide under my neck as he opened my mouth, placed his on mine. His breath was transferred to my body, forcing air into my already depleted lungs. Needless to say it was rather unpleasant. As soon as he backed away, I exhaled as slowly as I could, then he gave me another breath. I felt my body shiver a little bit.

"Abs, breathe for me," he begged. "Abigail, please. Don't do this." I felt his fingertips trace above my breast. I could hear the desperation in his voice, and how shaky it was. What I was feeling damn near made me stop this charade. After the fourth time he took in a shaky breath and breathed into me, this time I did it on my own. Filled with dread caused by Dean, I placed a reassuring kiss on his lips as we were connected, lifting my hand and placed it on his cheek.

He pulled away and I saw the shocked look on his face, "You okay?"

"Let me show you." I said with a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. He gripped my wrist and yanked me off of him, rearing back with his brows knitted together in an angry scowl.

"What the fuck is the matter with you?!" he shouted.

I smirked at him, "I should ask you the same—"

"Stop." He snarled out, eyes swirling in a mass of rage, "You wanna know what happened to you after the accident _so fucking bad_? Fine. I'll tell ya." started Dean," You were hooked up on_ life support_. You had an edema in your brain, not to mention several other injuries." Guilt creeped up my spine, and I recognize that it was mine, "Megan was dying due the trauma. The next day, I watched you flat line in front of me—you went into cardiac arrest caused by a stroke. I performed CPR on you before the doctors ever came into your room, then Sam and I both stood in the hall as they shocked you."

I felt my heart squeeze painfully out of guilt for pulling that stunt. I sensed it in his voice, and felt it in a massive knot in my stomach. I averted my eyes to the ground next to his knees. "Do you have any idea what it was like for me to watch your lifeless body arch up? What it was like for _Sam_?!" He exclaimed, "They were close to giving up on you—everyone! The next thing I know, the doctors tell me that we should pull the plug on you because it wasn't likely that you were gonna survive. Even Sam was considering it! I had to punch my own brother because I couldn't let you go!"

"Dean, stop." I felt my heart aching, "I get it." I felt tears forming in my eyes. Dean grabbed my shoulders tightly.

"No, you wanted to know!" He snarled out at me, eyes flashing dangerously in the light of the pool lights as he shook me slightly. "Then dad died…" His voice became strained, tears twinkling in his eyes, "I heard Sam shouting for me. I heard that you were about to flat line again." Dean's grip slackened, licking his lips pensively, "…I watched them shock you once again. This time, it didn't take them long, and you ended up busting a couple of your staples..." Dean squeezed his eyes shut, bowing his head and shook it as a lone tear trailed down his face, "Every time you are out of my sight or hurt, I am so afraid I might lose you."

My heart was breaking, fully aware that what I had done was foolish, "I was afraid I lost you for good. You scared the shit out of me, Abigail."

"Dean, I'm sorry-" I tried to tell him.

"Sorry doesn't take back what you just did." He said angrily. "I can't even look at you right now." I gazed back down at the ground, "Don't talk to me unless I talk to you, or unless we're around Megan." Dean stood up, his boots scraping against the concrete in one motion as he turned and stalked off towards the motel room.

I started to cry, _How could I have been so stupid and self-centered_?

* * *

Back in the motel, Sam had returned thirty minutes after my stunt. The three of us ate in silence, beginning our meticulous task of finding ways to waste a zombie, non-Romero style. Dean paced around the room like a caged animal, agitated and stressed out bundled into one. Sam was perched on his bed with John's journal in hand while I sat on the dresser, skimming through the pink diary of Angela Mason.

"We can't just waste it with a head shot?" Dean asked.

Sam snorted in amusement, glancing up from his father's journal, "Dude. You've been watching way too many Romero flicks."

"You're telling me there's no lore on how to smoke 'em." He deadpanned, crossing the room to the table near the window.

"No, Dean, I'm telling you there's too much." Sam sighed heavily as he joined him, "I mean, there's a hundred different legends on the walking dead, but they all have different methods for killing them."

"Some say—settin' them on fire." I stated, "Uh, one said—which is also my personal favorite—feedin' their hearts to wild dogs." Dean stared at me emotionlessly while Sam looked rather smug. It was his favorite as well, "I mean, who knows what's real and what's myth? The possibilities are endless."

"Is there anything they all have in common?" Dean asked.

I leaned up against the counter, folding my arms, "No. But a few said silver might work."

Dean nodded, "Silver's a start." He regarded me with a nod.

"Yeah. But now how are we going to find Angela?" Sam asked, looking across the table to Dean and across the room to me. Dean's eyes flickered over to me, holding me in his sight.

"We've got to figure out the person who brought her back first." He said.

"Any ideas?" Sam prompted.

"My money's on Neil." I deadpanned, "Since daddy dearest is innocent, it only leaves him."

Sam looked a little taken aback at my deduction, "Neil?"

Dean nodded, backing me up, "Yep."

"How'd you come up with that?" Sam asked us, eyeing the pink journal in my hand.

Dean smirked, "Well, you've got your journal, we've got ours."

"_Neil's a real shoulder to cry on, he so understands what I'm going through with Matt._" I quoted in a preppy cheerleader voice earning an amused chuckle from Sam. I snapped it shut, handing it back to Dean as he passed by. "There's more in there where that came from."

"It's got Unrequited Ducky Love written all over it." Dean added with his face skewed slightly.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean he brought her back from the dead." Sam said.

Dean hummed, "Did I mention he's Professor Mason's TA? Has access to all the same books." I tilted my head to the side as Sam and I both looked at him, speculative.

* * *

_**Neil's House—Night**_

We let ourselves into the house courtesy of our little credit card trick. The house was dark and quiet. Taking the lead, Dean looked around warily.

"Hello? Neil?!" He called out, "It's your grief counselors—we've come to hug."

"He's not home…" I mused, taking out my pistol to check my chamber. I felt Dean's eyes bore holes into me.

"Silver bullets?" Sam asked me, causing me to glance up at him briefly.

"Yeah, enough to make her rattle like a change purse." I paused. _That's not what I wanted to say_—earning a weirded-out look from Dean. I just said what _he_ wanted to say, though neither of us spoke. We started through the house, again with Dean taking the lead with his pistol out, as well. Spotting wilted plants, I reach out tapping Sam on the shoulder since he was closer, gesturing my head to them. Dean saw this and nodded, checking the corner for any signs of Neil or Angela. Sam and I turned when Dean cleared his throat, spotting a door leading down to the basement.

"Unless it's where he keeps his porn..." Dean trailed off when I reached to twist the knob. Holding my pistol close to me, I watched as he nodded, and I opened the basement door allowing Dean to go down first, then Sam. I brought up the rear as we headed down the stairs, finding ourselves into an empty room complete with a television and a bed.

"Sure looks like a zombie pen to me." I muttered venturing into the room further.

"Yeah." Sam mused, "An empty one." He looked over at Dean, "You think Angela's going after somebody?" I pulled a loose grate and pulled it aside. Clearing my throat, Dean and Sam turned seeing that it lead out somewhere.

"I'm pretty sure she out to rent Beaches." Dean replied with a wry grin.

Sam didn't look to amused, "Look, smartass, she might kill someone. We gotta find her, guys."

"Yeah. Alright." His smile dropped, glancing to us both, "She, uh, she clipped Matt because he was cheating, right?"

Sam and I nodded, "Yeah."

"Well, it takes two to, you know," A suggestive smile graced his lips again, "have hardcore sex." I was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable about that.

"Didn't you say you talked to Angela's room mate?" I asked.

Dean hesitated, eyeing a part of the room like it was intriguing.

Sam furrowed his brows at him clearing his throat, "Uh, Dean." He looked at Sam innocently, "Abigail asked you something."

His eyes went over to me, answering me finally. "Yeah, she seemed awfully broken up over Matt's death—" His mouth tightened, "Shit." It had taken no time to climb out of the grate and back into the Impala, due to his erratic driving, we screeched to a halt in front of Angela's house. There was a crash, then a scream when we got out of the car, we wasted no time on barging into the house unannounced. Dean and I didn't take the time to hesitate on Angela—who had Lindsey by the hair, readying the pair of scissors she had in her hand to stab Lindsey—firing off several rounds into her. Angela convulsed, letting Lindsey go, and we managed to fire off another shot; our bullets hitting her in the chest twice.

Angela made the most ungodly sound; something between a roar and a scream, before she bolted out of the window. Dean followed her while I rushed out of the door to flank her, leaving Sam to tend to Lindsey. By the time we met in the middle of the street, Angela was long gone. There were no signs of blood, nothing.

Coming back into the house through the window, Dean stood beside me, "Damn, that dead chick can run."

Sam looked at us for answers, still holding Angela's terrified roommate, "What now?"

"I say we go have a little chat with Neil." I reasoned, breathing a little off since running after Angela. Dean, Sam, and I went to the Impala—Sam taking the passenger seat and me in the back with John's journal open.

"So the silver bullets, they did something, right?" Sam asked, throwing us inquisitive looks.

Dean nodded, "Yeah, something, but not enough." He gazed through the rearview mirror at me, "What else you got, Abigail?"

I skimmed across several things, "Um, okay, besides silver, we have ... nailin' the undead back into their grave beds." I glanced up at Dean, "It's mentioned a few times. It's probably where the whole vampire staking lore came from."

"Their grave beds?" Dean echoed, sounding disbelieving of what he just heard, "You serious?"

I nodded, "Yeah."

"How the hell are we going to get Angela back to the cemetery?" He asked, "I highly doubt the bitch is gonna just lie down and let us nail her down."

* * *

_**Neil's Office—Night**_

We reached Neil's work, which was Dr. Mason's office. Dean and Sam paused, almost hesitant if he were there. I simply opened the door, stepping into the room after sensing his nervousness. He jumped at his desk.

"What are you guys doing here?" Sam shut the door behind him.

"You know, I've heard of people doing some pretty desperate things to get laid, but you—" Dean's body shook as he chuckled, wagging his finger at Neil, "_you_ take the cake, buddy boy."

"Okay. Who are you guys?" Neil asked, looking at us expectantly.

I inspected my nails nonchalantly, "You might wanna to ask Angela that question."

His face blanched, "What?"

"We know what you did." I stated, "The ritual? Everythin'. You're scared shitless of the girl—" I hefted my shoulder into a shrug, "Can't say I blame ya, freaky ass zombie bitch."

Neil stared at me, offended, before he scoffed out, "You're crazy."

"Your girlfriend's past her expiration date and we're crazy?" Dean stared him down, "When someone's gone they should stay gone. You don't mess with that kind of stuff."

"Angela killed Matt. She tried to kill Lindsey." Sam explained.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Dean stomped over to the other side of the desk, hauling Neil up by the collar.

"Hey! No more crap, Neil." He barked out, "This blood is on your hands." Dean's jaw was set, eyeing him, "Now. Me, him, and her can make this right, but you've gotta tell us where she is." Neil wouldn't say anything and Dean shook him, "Tell us!"

"My house." He confessed, "She's at my house." _Lie._ I shifted around, noticing the plants by the window and cleared my throat, nodding to them. Dean glanced to me then to the dead plants, understanding. He let Neil go.

"You sure about that?" Dean's voice was eerily calm.

Neil nodded, looking around nervously, occasionally glancing to the closet. I focused on the closet, sensing another pair of eyes on us. They held a murderous intent.

"Neil, listen." I began, "It doesn't really matter where she is. There's only one way to stop her."

"We've got to perform another ritual over her grave, to reverse the one that you did." Dean added, going along with me, "We're going to need some black root, some-some scar weed, some candles..." He elaborated, "It's very complicated, but it'll get the job done."

"Needless to say, she'll be dead again in a couple hours." I stated, "I think you should come with us."

Dean leaned forward, eyeing the closet as I did, "I'm serious, Neil. Leave with us. Right now."

He shook his head, "No. No."

"Listen to me, man. Get out of here as soon as you can. But most of all, be cool." He told him, voice so low it was hard to hear him, "No sudden movements. Don't make her mad." Dean straightened up, throwing us both a look, "Let's go."

We got the hell out of there, but out of everything I felt within the town, I felt this horrible pain in my neck and it became hard to breathe for a split second. I covered my mouth under the sheet of darkness. Neil was dead.

* * *

_**Graveyard—Night**_

Around Angela's grave, each of us decorated her grave with ritual candles, hoping that Angela had taken the bait. In my honest opinion, she did.

"You really think this is going to work?" Sam asked, lighting one last candle.

Dean shook his head, "No, not really. But it was quick thinking on Abigail's part, and it was the only thing I could really think of."

"That's why you and Abs make a great team." Sam commented just as a noise sounded at a distance. It was her. Alert, Dean nodded to the both of us as we stood and pulled our guns out. Taking the lead, Sam stalked in the direction of the sound with me trailing behind him. Some distance away, we froze. Angela was close. As in, breathing down your neck. I spun around, pointing my gun at her as she stopped short, looking at the gun. Sam spun around doing the same, mouth in a tight line.

"Wait! It's not what you think." She said, "I didn't ask to be brought back. But it's still me. I'm still a person. Please." _Liar._ Sam and I exchanged a glance after hearing her out.

We fired our gun, hitting her square in the forehead in two different places as she screamed; her head snapping back in recoil. Bolting back towards the grave, Sam and I split off. I took my place near a monolith, peeking out from around it when Sam jumped the opened grave, only to be tackled to the ground by Angela. She twisted his head back as if to snap his neck only for me to step out, firing at her. Startled, she stood up, eyes wide in shock.

Dean came out of hiding, shooting her several more times until she fell straight back into the open grave, landing in the empty coffin. I picked up a long metal stake, tossing it to Dean as he ran to the grave, sliding the last length on his knees, and dove into the coffin with her. I didn't have to watch the scene below because I felt it. The stabbing pain in my chest from Angela, the dull ache in my wrist from Sam—Angela let out a piercing scream.

"Wait, don't-!" A sickening squelch, Angela let out a gasp, then silence. Breathing heavily, I closed my eyes, leaning against the monolith and held my wrist against my chest unaware of Sam watching me.

"What's dead should stay dead." Dean told Angela's corpse resolutely, before turning to see me curled up next to the monolith. It didn't take us long to cover up the grave since three people were shoveling dirt at a rapid pace. The sky was beginning to lighten up over the horizon as a telltale sign of the impending morning.

Sam ran the dirt through his hand, "Rest in peace."

"Yeah. For good this time, okay?" Dean quipped, shaking his head at the grave. We turned away, heading for the car—Sam and I grunting as we lifted our shovels over a shoulder.

"You know, that whole fake ritual thing, luring Angela into the cemetery? Pretty sharp." Sam commented to me and Dean with a smile.

I nodded at him, "Thanks."

"But did we have to use me as bait?" He asked.

"Oh, c'mon, Sammy." I scoffed out, "I was right there holdin' your hand." I worked my wrist out with a grimace.

"Besides, I figured you were more her type." Dean added, "You know, she had pretty crappy taste in guys."

"I think she broke my hand." Sam commented, working his hand with a grimace.

Dean started laughing, "You're just too fragile. We'll get it looked at later." He promised, turning back to Mary's grave, pausing. I paused, looking from him to the grave, feeling a longing to maybe stop by there.

"You want to stay for a while?" Sam asked.

"No." Dean said quietly. We dropped our things into the trunk of the car and got in. Dean passed by me, pulling his keys out, "You drive, I'm too tired to think straight." I furrowed my brows at him, taking the keys as he opened the rear driver's side door and climbed into the backseat while Sam and I got into the front. I turned the keys over, revving the car a couple of times, and pulled out.

* * *

Hours had passed, and all was quiet in the Impala except for the radio playing Blue October's _Hate Me,_ much to Dean's displeasure. House rules though, I was driving and he needed to shut up. If he didn't like what I was listening to, well, shouldn't have let me drive. Besides, the song seemed to hold some truth in the words pertaining to the seemingly impending doom of whatever relationship we had. There wasn't going to be any leeway. No more bending, because things were already cracking—just waiting to shatter apart in some catastrophic explosion that was gonna leave a nasty wake.

_I'm sober now for three whole months it's one accomplishment that you helped me with…The one thing that always tore us apart is the one thing I won't touch again_. I felt the condescension just ooze out of me, twisting the corners of my mouth into a sneer. It wasn't at no one in particular except for myself. The _one_ thing I could be proud of myself for—other than Megan—I brought back into my life, and it felt like an anvil sat in my jacket pocket.

_In my sick way I want to thank you for holding my head up late at night…While I was busy waging wars on myself, you were trying to stop the fight. _I sat, and stewed. Focusing ahead the long, straight and desolate highway that seemed to stretch on for miles, tapering off into the horizon. It was endless, just like the things that were beginning to unfold. Tears sprung up in my eyes like painful pricks of needles.

_You never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicidal hate…You made me compliment myself when it was way too hard to take…So I'll drive so fucking far away that I never cross your mind…And do whatever it takes in your heart to leave me behind_…I hadn't noticed Sam's concerned look until I pulled the car across the side of the road to stop in the opposite shoulder where I got out of the car, despite Sam's concerned questions. I sat on the hood fighting with myself in order to stave off crying. _God_, I hate crying more than anything. The feeling only worsened when both car doors slammed.

"Abigail, what is it?" Sam asked. I crumpled like a house of cards in a windstorm.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, swallowing down the knot in my throat, not looking to either brother. Sam was taken aback, Dean was…indifferent?

"You—For what?" He was confused, glancing to Dean for some source of my apology.

"The way I've been actin'—I've been more or less a self-centered bitch than anythin'." I confessed, peering up at Sam through tear soaked lashes. Sam's eyes flickered over to Dean, who was standing near the driver's side door. I sniffled, wiping away tears quickly, "And for Dad. It's my fault that he's gone."

Sam rounded the front to sit with me on the hood, "What are you talking about?"

"I know you've been thinking it, so has Dean—so have I." I said looking to him fully, and the front of the Impala sunk lower when Dean joined us. Silent. "Doesn't take a genius to figure it out." I muttered, keeping my arms tucked into me. Both were silent, waiting to hear me out, "Back at the hospital, I made a full recovery—Megan too. It was a miracle." Dean's cheek was sucked in, "And five minutes later Dad's dead and the Colt's gone?"

"Abigail…" Sam said lightly.

I scoffed, looking at him with an incredulous look. Hell, I looked to the both of them, "You can't tell me there's not a connection there." Dean stared at me with a knowing look—he had been thinking the same thing, "I don't know how the demon was involved. I don't know how the whole thing went down exactly. But Dad's dead because of me. And that much I do know."

Sam shook his head, "We don't know that, Abigail. Not for sure."

"Guys…" I cupped my hand over my mouth a moment before wiping away the tears that were falling. Dean pulled me against him, resting his chin against my head, "You, Dean, Megan, and Dad..." I sat up, putting some space between Dean. He didn't have to hold me, not after what I did, "You're the most important people in my life. And now... I never should've come back, and Megan shouldn't have pulled through."

Sam and Dean both sat in a heavy silence, "It wasn't natural. And now look what's come of it. I was dead. And I should have stayed dead." I looked over to Dean, "What's dead should stay dead, no matter what the circumstances." His posture stiffened. "You wanted to know how I was feelin', Sam. Well, that's it." Sam nodded holding a troubled look in his eyes, "So tell me, what could you two possibly say to make that alright?" I stared to each man for a good long moment and each of them looked away, speechless, though neither of them moved from me. Not even Dean.

* * *

_**Three Days Later…**_

I sat in a chair facing the double doors they took Megan through. Being in the hospital was the absolute worst. There was so many terrible emotions running through me. I would've broke down into a series of hysterical fits if it weren't for me taking a Vicodin beforehand. Now, I was just a nervous wreck—pacing around like some animal in a cage, crying—acting like any nervous and worried parent would do. Sam was sitting with me, hand wound around mine tightly in reassurance.

"She's gonna be fine, Abigail." Sam told me.

I bobbed my legs up and down frantically, "I know it…" I used my free hand to wipe away another onslaught of tears, "I know it…" It was so hard to think in this place. Dean was nowhere to be found for the most part. He'd gone MIA after Megan was carted off behind the doors.

"How long has it been since Dean's talked to you?" Sam asked.

I shrugged, "A coupla days…" He shook his head at me, agitated at his brother, "It's fine really. We just need to blow off steam, Sam. Don't get bothered by it."

"No, Abs." He said firmly, "Dean needs to be here with you. She's your all's kid."

"He's probably went to get somethin' to eat…" I offered to get him to hush for a little bit.

"We just ate before leaving Bobby's…" Sam deadpanned, "I'm gonna go find him."

"No." He furrowed his brows at me, confused, "He'll show up." I blew out a sigh trying to stabilize the handling I had on my emotions, "Besides, it ain't your place to clean up his messes."

Sam looked at me with a softened expression, "I know…but he's my brother—_our_ brother—as much as he's a pain in the ass." I cracked a smile, laughing softly.

"You got that right, Sammy…" A pair of boots hitting the ground from a distance was evident that Dean was making his return. I didn't bother looking at him when he took a seat beside me. I leaned forward, holding my face in my hands. Despite the two men speaking over my hunched over form, I couldn't hear them. I had squeezed my eyes shut and prayed. I prayed to whoever and whatever could hear me; _I don't do this often—not as what I should. Just…whoever can hear this; angels, demons, the flyin' spaghetti monster—doesn't matter. _Please_, let everythin' go by smoothly. _Please.

I felt so desperate, like I was at a loss.

_I can't lose her. Not my daughter…Let me know things are goin' to be alright with her surgery…with me and Dean. It doesn't matter what it is. Give me a sign—_I jolted upright, startled by a sudden touch. Sam looked at me, concerned. Reason why? I was crying all over again, and it was becoming quiet sobs. Dean and Sam both were looking at me.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

I nodded, "I'm sorry, guys…" I muttered taking my hands to wipe away the tears.

"Abs…" Dean said lightly as if he were testing out my name once again. I closed my eyes again out of guilt. I couldn't look at him—I haven't spoken to him…not exactly since we came back. He hasn't either. "There's nothing to be sorry about. Everything's going to be alright." He took my hand into his calloused ones in a tender fashion. I felt his worry, his anger, and his fear for our daughter's safety—it was eating him alive that he wasn't there in the same room with her. Another emotion I felt from him was a deep sense of longing that caused my chest to ache.

Not able to find the words to speak, I simply nodded and felt Sam take mine in his as well.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "Nothin' to worry about. She's a Winchester."

* * *

"Miss. Winchester? Mr. McGullicutty?" I startled awake, realizing that I had dozen off on Dean's shoulder, and from the looks of it, Dean and Sam had dozed off too.

"Yeah. What's the verdict, doc?" Dean asked, voice husky from sleeping. He rubbed his eyes as I sat up, looking at the doctor, only to gape at him in shock. I knew him! I straight up _knew_ him!

Megan's doctor looked to Dean and me with a smile gracing his youthful features, "Her surgery went by smoothly and flawlessly. We got her all patched up, and she's currently in recovery." Her doctor replied. Dean let out a sigh of relief, bowing his head, and scrubbed his face to wake himself up further while Sam let out a lighthearted laugh, pulling me into an embrace, and kissed my hair in a brotherly fashion. I couldn't do a damn thing but stare at the doctor like he had grown a third eye on his forehead.

"Doc…that's—that's great to hear," Dean finally said, "There's nothing wrong at all? No cleft palate? Nothing?"

He shook his head, smiling in a pleased manner, "Not one sign. I highly doubt she would need any more surgeries. It was just a minor cleft in the soft palate, near her throat." Dean smiled, nodding in relief.

"Good…that's great. Thank you." He told him. The doctor's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"All in day's work." He replied, digging into his pocket, only to pull out a ruby red lollipop, "You three have a good day." As he left, he focused on me and winked, "Like I said before sugar, you two are soap opera _gold_. Try not to kill yourself." He turned on his heels to leave, the paused, "Oh, by the way. Great prank. I knew you had it in you." His lips curled into a grin, then seemingly disappeared right before my eyes with the sound of wings fluttered.

_What the-?! _I stared where the doctor was just standing at in total shock, then I turned to look at Sam. He was talking to Dean—paying no mind to what just happened, and I turned to look at Dean. He didn't see a thing!

"Abigail," Sam said excitedly, "You look like you saw a zombie."

I blinked, forcing myself to take control of myself, "What?"

Sam laughed, glancing to his brother, "Did you not hear a thing the doctor said?"

I swallowed, "Uh…yeah. Yeah. I heard."

"Isn't that great?" He asked, "No more surgeries."

I smiled, "Yeah. Awesome. I couldn't be anymore happier." Then I turned to Dean, uncomfortable. His eyes held mine, seeming to have a mutual feeling as I did, before he pulled me into him, kissing my forehead.

_Everything's going to be alright_, it seemed to say as he forced himself to pull away from me. Dean rose to his feet, running his hands through his hair in a stretch where his shirt lifted to expose the lower half of his abdomen. It seemed a little dirty of me to fixate on that, but there was a little flourish of hope that was my own, that told me things were going to start looking up. Even if he wasn't talking to me, I knew he still cared, and I was stupid.

* * *

**How 'bout this chapter?! My heart absolutely broke while I wrote it out. There were a few times where I wanted to punch my computer! Did it make your jaws drop? Just keep in mind, things are gonna get worse before they get better! Don't lose hope in Dean and Abigail (or me)!  
**

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**I'd love to thank _Ladysunshine6_ for lending some help with writing a few scenes and adding in a few things-the pool scene-and I want to say thank you to _grapejuice101_ for giving me ideas! I'll definitely put it to use in future chapters since I forgot to do that in this (I'm so sorry)!**

**I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise. ****I would absolutely die if fanfiction .net took this down for my stupidity.**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me, I love receiving both!**

**UPDATE: I finally found the time to try and attempt at making a Tumblr for this series as a whole, and I realize that it is a little bland for my taste, but it's got the job done in my opinion for now. So, if ya'll have one follow me!**

Tumblr: coltabigail dot tumblr dot com!

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**The song for this chapter: _Private Parts_ by Halestorm. (It's a great song, and I seriously listened to it nonstop while writing this!)**

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**grapejuice101\- Thank you! I deeply appreciate you PMing me with ideas!**

**angelicedg\- She's definitely has a new ability, that's for sure, but it's taking toll on her!**

****sarahmichellegellarfan1\- All in due time! All in due time! I have to agree with you on that one, m'dear! It is _long_ overdue!****

****giddyfan\- Thank you so much! That means a lot! I'm glad that I was able to do that! c:****

****ebonywarrior85\- Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!****

****SassyGrl23\- He's being a major ass isn't he? Don't worry, things will get better, I promise! Like Abigail, Dean is getting nightmares of how John died and Abigail flatlining, and it's eating at him-resulting in said chapter and previous chapter. In some way, he feels responsible for that happening, and it causes strain on their relationship because he's so damn stubborn!****


	8. One Step Forward, Take Two Back

_Time is on neither side, no one's wrong_

_And no one's right_

_Hiding pain, Novocain is gonna fade_

_There's no good in goodbye_

_The greatest pretenders forget to remember_

_the lies_

_We're falling together, the ties that we sever_

_Tonight_

* * *

_**NICU—Day**_

_**September 10**__**th**__**, 2006**_

I sat by myself in the NICU with my daughter, eyes red and puffy from crying. The past few days had been hell, nor had I left this room for at least two of them. Megan was fussy, more or less in pain from her stitches, resulting in her not eating all that well. I had been rocking her in one of the rocking chairs for well over an hour, just singing to her as quietly as I could without crying.

I had been singing a song that I adored when things got rough between Dean and I, seeming like it always comforted me with its words, coincidentally, it was called _Mary._ I loved hearing Patty Griffin sing it; her voice had this raspy, sensual tone to it which made me love it that much more. Megan seemed to like it, due to her sleeping soundly. "_Oh Mary, she moves behind me. She leaves her fingerprints everywhere_…" My fingers pushed Megan's beanie up a little to see her little face better, "_Every time the snow drifts, every way the sand shifts…Even when the night lifts, she's always there…_"

"_Jesus said, "Mother I couldn't stay another day longer"…He flies right by and leaves a kiss upon her face…_" I felt my lips twist into a grin when Megan's mouth turned up into one momentarily, I didn't bother looking up from her when I heard the door open, "_While the angels are singin' his praises in a blaze of glory…Mary stays behind and starts cleaning up the place…_"

Sam and Dean stepped into the room, pausing briefly at the recognition of what I was singing. Sam shut the door quietly until it clicked. Dean however, just looked like he lost his breath for a moment. His eyes widened slightly, then averted his gaze to the floor, "How—" He winced at how loud his voice was, "How long has she been out?"

I hummed the song a little bit before answering, "Thirty minutes or so." Dean moved to the chair beside me, glancing between me and our child with a calm expression painted on his face. Deep within him though, despite our not talking to each other, I always felt this…pain and guilt knot my stomach up. He had long since got over his angry spell from what I did back at the motel. Quite honestly, it was his foolish pride making the best of him. I'm sure mine was a good part of it too, but if he wanted this, then by God, I was gonna give him a taste of his own medicine.

Wordlessly, I eased Megan into his arms feeling his hand brush against my arms as he held her, along with a little ball of tension group in my lower abdomen. After all, it had been a week since I even tried to touch him or speak to him…even longer since Dean and I had voided out any form of intimacy between us.

Once he had our daughter in his arms safely, I retracted my arms; holding my hands in fists almost as if I had been scalded. I didn't miss his eyes flickering to mine as I did so. He licked his lips, a swipe of pink darting out from behind his teeth, before darting back in and smiled down at Megan, his eyes leaving mine for our slumbering child.

Instead of sitting down, I lifted my arms above my head in a stretch. I let out a soft grunt upon feeling my back pop in several places. "You okay?" I looked over to Sam, who was standing nearby, watching. I lowered my arms till they were hanging loosely at my sides, nodding.

"Yeah, why?" I asked, confused.

Sam shrugged in an elusive manner, "It's just…you've been cooped up in here for the past couple of days. Bobby was wondering about you."

"If wonderin' is comin' from Bobby, then he's worryin'," I said with a small smirk, "I'm fine…" I motioned my hand to Megan, "Jus' spendin' time with my daughter is all." Then I crossed my arms, eyeing my little brother's cast. "Besides, how's the wrist?"

Sam gave his wrist a distasteful look. It was snugly wrapped in a cast, prohibiting any movement except for his fingers, in which they wiggled freely. "It's fine." He muttered. I snorted at him in amusement. He was like a lost puppy without the use of his hand, "Hey, uh, did you get a call from Charlie and Kara?"

I raised my brows at him, drawing my face into a drawn out frown. _Yeah. Several._ I thought to myself a split second before I opened my mouth. "Nope. Why?"

Sam tilted his head like he knew something I didn't, "No reason…it's just, uh, Kara called me and said that they've tried to call you." There was this…nagging feeling coming from him—if nagging was the word for it—as he crossed his arms across his chest.

To throw him off, I pulled out my phone, flipped it open, merely glancing through my missed calls, and tossed it across the room to him, "Check it if you don't believe me, Sammy." Dean glanced up from Megan, exchanging a look with Sam as he caught it deftly, scrolling through with knitted brows. With a sigh, he nodded, peering up at me, "See? No missed calls." I told him in a rather snarky, matter-of-fact tone.

"Alright, alright." Sam muttered in a defeated voice, handing it back to me. I shook my head at him, shoving my phone back into my pocket. This was beginning to get ridiculous between Sam hounding me and my uncle calling to check in on me. I felt crappy for ignoring the calls, but I plainly didn't want to be bothered. All I wanted was to be alone, protect Megan, drink myself into a coma with additional help of my relapse, and be done with everything.

I'm sure they could sense it. Hell, a blind man could see it plain as day. With a sigh, I scratched the back of my head, glancing between the two brothers, "But, uh, since you're here…I think I'm gonna crash in the Impala." Dean nodded mutely, carefully moving his hand away from Megan as he dug into his jacket searching for the keys. With a pleasing jingle, he pulled them out, quickly fisting him in his hand to quiet the sound they made. I edged over to him, slowly holding my hand out like some kid about to get in trouble. There was no exchange of words between us, just him simply putting the keys in my outstretched hand, though I made a mental note of him brushing his fingertips along my palm.

Sure, Sam was there, watching us closely. Observing our interactions if we were really trying to work things out like he tearfully wanted back in Illinois. I knew what he was doing. If anything, I think he noticed us distancing ourselves more and more, which often earned us a distasteful eye roll or the occasional bitchface. Dean didn't want Sam to know our turmoil, or our reason for being like this. I didn't blame him. Again, our brother was in the dark.

"Ya'll know where to find me…" I muttered, averting Dean's gaze when he turned to look at me. There was a sense of hurt seeping from him, catching a nod from the both of them. I bent down, pressing my lips to Megan's temple before whispering, "Momma loves you, angel of mine." Leaving the room, I walked out of the NICU and headed out into the parking lot where the Impala was parked underneath a tree. Going from cool to humid and hot, I started to have second thoughts about sprawling out in the back of the car—since it's black and black leather.

I paused to peel my jacket off, rendering me in a black quadruple strap tank top with a lace skull on the front and unlocked the car to climb into the backseat. Rolling down the windows to let a cross breeze in, I fished out a blanket and spread it out across the backseat, then piled my jacket up as a makeshift pillow. Lying down on my back, I stared up to the roof of the Impala, when tears pricked in the corners of my eyes. Blinking, my lashes were instantly matted together in undignified clumps until one after another, tears silently slid down my face after I found it hard to breathe.

It was like a stab to the heart, the pain was. Everything I managed to keep locked away seemed to have found a loophole within their confines, and spilled out. My throat locked as the weight I felt on my chest increased with every passing second that I denied to sob. I even held my breath until I felt my face heat up, chest burn in protest—it was just one of those tiny little tokens one got from sorrow and misery. It was then I let out a loud gasp of air that my borders and walls came crumbling to the ground, and I sobbed. As I let out choking, inaudible sounds, the world around me melted from color to gray like some cheesy movie.

"_Mary…_" I choked out, "_You're covered in roses…you're covered in ruin…you're covered in secrets…You're covered in treetops….you're covered in birds… who can sing a million songs without any words." _I twisted onto my side, covering my mouth with my hand as each sob elicited from my mouth, until unconsciousness swooped in several mind numbing minutes later.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

My eyes went to the ceiling for the hundredth time in the span of two minutes. Sam was on a roll, pacing back and forth, "And she acts like nothing's going on!" I ran a hand down my face, already tired of hearing his crap.

"_You_—" I winced again at how loud my voice seemed to be. Glancing down to the tiny form of my daughter I let out a sigh of relief, "You don't think I know that?"

Sam's lips were in a tight, thin line, "_Dean_, there's something going on with Abigail. She's deleted her call history, and _lied_ about it." After a pause, he shook his head, "I mean, you look at me like I'm stupid!"

I narrowed my eyes at him, annoyed. "Can you tone it down?" Sam glanced to Megan, wincing.

"Sorry…" he muttered, turning his eyes to the wall. He fell silent, eyes wandering to each little thing we had placed—souvenirs, photographs…things like that—with a frown, "It's just…I want to believe that things are gonna be okay between you two… so that we can start to be a family again, you know?"

"Things are okay between Abigail and me, Sam." I replied casually, catching the dirty look he gave me, "Look, everything isn't gonna be all honky-dory in the span of six weeks, alright? We've all had it rough. That doesn't mean that—" Megan squirmed against my chest making me stop in mid-sentence to look down, observing and waiting mostly for her to wake up or cry, or do whatever kids do this tiny. She didn't as much as peek from beneath her lashes like she did, only stretched her legs out with a yawn and settled back into her position, dozing back off. I waited a few moments for her to settle back into a deep sleep before turning my eyes back onto my brother, "Nothing's gonna happen between Abigail and I. I can assure you that."

Sam stared at me in a disbelieving manner, "I find it hard to believe you, Dean." I furrowed my brows at him, ready to say something. "You two haven't spoken a word to each other since Megan's surgery, let alone look at each other—it's like the two of you are invisible unless we're here." I ran my tongue along the roof of my mouth while my jaw worked in an odd manner. I didn't need him to state the obvious. "So, I mean…are you two really okay?"

"We just hit a rough patch…that's all." I reassured him with a smile. Sam furrowed his brows, staring with that infuriating puppy-dog look. He wanted me to talk—to open up and spill the beans about everything—but that just wasn't my cup of tea. There we were, leaving him in the dark. It was better that way. He didn't deserve to see how miserable we were. The endless hours of silence that would go by. Not a peep from Abigail, not even a smile or a glance.

And all of this was one big, empty void in my chest. I didn't want to talk about it.

Sam let out a sigh, "Alright. If that's all it is…" I glanced up at him, seeing his defeated expression. There was no doubt that he was worried and concerned about us. Perhaps even more concerned since Kara and Charlie _both_ called looking to talk to Abigail, only for us to find out that she hasn't been answering their calls, "I'm going to make Abigail go to Charlie's."

I furrowed my brows at him, "What?"

Sam nodded, "Well…we're going to make her go."

"Dude, no. I'm not making Abigail to anything she doesn't want to do." I replied, earning a dirty look from my brother.

"Look man, she needs to talk to them whether she wants to or not."

"And she can do that when she feels like it," I stated, "There's obviously a reason why she's doing this, and I'm not gonna push it."

Sam shook his head, getting upset once again. "See what I mean, Dean? We have a problem and you don't want to address it…the _both_ of you need to get away for a while, so we're going to Kara and Charlie's."

I scoffed, "Not while my kid's in this hospital, Sam."

"A couple of days, Dean." Sam said, trying to coax me into this stupid idea of his, "That's all I'm askin'. Two or three days, and we'll come right back."

I rolled my eyes at my brother, "Sammy—"

"Dean." There was a bit of force behind his voice, "Her family is worried sick about her-about you."

"What'd you do? Tell our life story?" I snapped.

"No. I told them that I'd have her talk to them one way or another…" He shrugged impishly, "Then I might've said something about you two being grade-A asshats."

I stared at him incredulously, "You're the asshat…asshat." I fumbled over my words like some fool.

Sam smirked, "So, we going or not?" We sat in silence. For a long while I sat and debated it. Megan's tiny body was resting peacefully, and I didn't want to part with her this quick. Granted, she was improving every day that made her the miracle baby in the NICU, and a couple of days was a short amount of time…however, that was time _away_ from my daughter. I ended up bobbing my leg up and down in agitation, "Well?"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking." I snapped, earning a hopeful look from him, before I sighed, "You know she's going to kill us, right?"

Sam grinned.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**September 11**__**th**__**, 2006**_

_**Interstate—Early Morning**_

"Sammy, do we really gotta do this?" I implored, sitting in the backseat as the familiar blue coloration of the Appalachian Mountains surrounded us. In response to my whiny tone, Sam's eyes narrowed at me in the rearview mirror. He wasn't too amused at my childish behavior once I figured out where he and Dean was taking me—Charlie and Kara's.

"Yes, Abigail." Sam replied for the hundredth time over the course of our fifteen hour drive. I slumped in the back, tilting my head back in an overdramatic groan, "Look." His voice was curt, making me stare at him with a pout, "They're worried about you. You won't answer their calls or call them back."

"Yeah. There's a reason behind that—I don't wanna talk to anyone. Main word is _anyone_, in case you didn't know." I quipped. Sam shook his head at me, exasperated. His shaggy hair swished back and forth at the motion bringing up the urge to quip about his hair needing a trim. I decided against it. Dean, sitting shotgun, was silent; observing us, "I'd rather be with Megan. I can't keep leavin' her like this. It ain't right."

"Comes along with the territory, Abigail." Sam said, "Besides, they're your family."

I scoffed, "Yeah, well…abandonin' my kid isn't on my To-Do list, last time I checked." I caught Dean's head tilt to the side in an agreeing manner, looking to Sam. It wasn't on his agenda either, "Can't we just go to the roadhouse?"

"No."

"Seriously?" I asked.

"Seriously." My head fell back, hitting the backseat with a thump. Dean wasn't going to be any help. He barely spoke to me since Megan's surgery, which was a no brainer. Sitting up there, silent as ever, I could feel that he was mutually irritated at Sam that we were making this trip away from our daughter. It felt unnecessary—much like Dean found going to the graveyard in Illinois to visit a headstone. There wasn't going to be case, or a job, or a hunt, or anything!

That was when I started getting antsy. My hands started to shake when I brought them up to rub my face. Clenching them, I shook my head, leaned forward in the seat, and wrapped my arms around me like I had done many a time when I felt anxious. I sincerely hoped we weren't staying long.

* * *

_**Charlie and Kara's Home—Morning**_

_**Charleston, West Virginia**_

Pulling into the long driveway, I could feel excitement and concern from within the house. I had to put on my game face—make it seem like I was fine. After all, I'm the Queen of Fine. Sam put the Impala in park just as the front door opened. Kara was the first to come out, then Charlie. I sucked my bottom lip in, chewing on the dried skin pensively. Sam and Dean got out, then me after I grabbed my bag from the backseat.

Charlie gently pulled me into him, pressing his lips into my hair as he wrapped me in a tight embrace, "Hey there, kiddo."

I strained a smile upon feeling his concern and worry ebb into that of relief that I was standing there in front of him, "Hey Charlie…"

"You doin' okay?" He asked, keeping a hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah…I'm alright." I muttered as he nodded. Being the first to approach Kara, her face knitted into a look of worry, hugging me tightly.

"We've been so worried about you." She whispered, "How's Megan doin'?"

We pulled back and I shrugged, "She's doin' better. Her stitches are gettin' taken out in a couple of days."

"Is she eatin' better?"

"Oh yeah. There's no change in her eating habit." Dean answered, stepping up onto the stoop with his duffel in tow. Charlie nodded, relief washing over him as he extended his hand out to Dean. He returned the gesture with a firm shake before Charlie pulled him in to an embrace, "I've missed your musk." Dean joked, earning a belly-laugh from my uncle. His voice boomed across the quiet property, echoing back from the surrounding mountains.

"You too, man. You too." He chuckled out, and placed his hand on Dean's shoulder with a sincere expression, "Listen, I hate to hear 'bout your old man. Toughest sum'bitch Steven and I knew." Dean nodded, shifting in his spot. Briefly, his eyes landed on me like he did when he needed me to bail him out of an uncomfortable situation. I averted my gaze to Sam as he finally joined us with his duffle bag in his hand. He didn't escape the manhug from Charlie or the teary eyed hug from Kara, which threw him off a little

"Well, come in." Charlie announced, "Ya'll know what to do; make you'ns comfortable."

Coming into the foyer, the smell of cinnamon and apples elated our senses causing Dean to breathe in deeply, closing his eyes, then exhaled; a smile gracing his features for the first time in days. He turned to look at Kara with a hopeful expression in his eyes, "Please tell me that's apple pie."

Kara grinned, "Apple dumplin's—they're like apple pies, but smaller an' softer."

Dean clapped his hands together, licking his lips, "Alright then, when do we eat?"

"Dude, you just ate an hour ago." Sam stated, astonished that his brother was possibly hungry.

"Yeah. That was an hour ago, Sam. A whole hour. I'm starving here!" Kara laughed lightly as we came into the living room, dropping our bags near the couches.

"Well, you're gonna have to wait there, I just put them in." She told him, then wrapped her arm around mine with a grin. "I'm gonna go check on Gavin, he's been fussy lately. You wanna go with me and see 'im?" My eyes flickered over to Dean and Sam briefly, before I nodded.

"Why yeah." Her grin still in place, Kara practically drug me up the stairs, down the hall, and to the last room before their room. Entering, I was in awe at Gavin's nursery. The room was painted in a neutral gray tone with white trim lining the walls. One wall, however, had a series of wood planks painted different shades of gray, blue, and white. A plaster bust of a deer hung vertical to the navy blue and white crib and beside it in big wooden letters were his initials. I loved it, and yet, I felt jealous that I couldn't give Megan a room like this…I mean I could, I just didn't want to coup up Charlie and Kara's house.

Kara and I drew near the crib, peering down into it. From beside me, I could feel the love and compassion she had towards her son as we watched Gavin's form sleep contentedly, "You know," Kara said lightly, "I can stand here for hours and just watch him sleep." I kept my eyes lowered, avoiding any form of eye contact, "He's the most precious thing…" My gut knotted up with remorse and realized that it wasn't mine. Kara sniffled, turning towards me with tears in her eyes, "I can't imagine what it's like for you and Dean…"

"It's hard…" I whispered out, feeling the painful prick of tears in my eyes. Bringing my hand up, I swiped underneath them to rid myself of the pesky tears, "I don't like leavin' her…y'know?"

Kara nodded, "I can only imagine."

I pulled my bottom lip in for a moment, capturing it between my teeth. "To be honest, I didn't want to come…I don't want to do anythin'—jus' sit in the room with Megan." Kara's hand rested on my shoulder, squeezing it softly in reassurance.

"Abby, don't think me or Charlie's mad at you for not pickin' up your phone, we're not." I swallowed the lump of guilt in my throat as she spoke, "You're havin' a hard time…you and Dean and Sammy; you three jus' lost your daddy. That's a hard thing to overcome."

"Yeah, tell me about it…" I muttered, wiping another round of tears. Her lips pressed into a thin line, staring at me with a soft, understanding look in her eyes, "My second time 'round."

Her face knitted into a sympathetic look, "I couldn't help but notice somethin' goin' on between you an' Dean when ya'll showed up…" I closed my eyes, dipping my head forward. _How'd she know that?_

"Sam told us when we got a hold of him." She added.

I was quiet for a moment, trying to refrain from speaking the truth. I didn't have the heart to lie to her. "I'd be lyin' if I said yes." I admitted, feeling her chest clench out of sympathy, "We're not fine…nothin' about us is fine. It's like we're movin' in the completely opposite direction…" I blew out a breath, "All of us are pretty messed up after John…" _died_. I couldn't finish my sentence, but Kara knew. She hugged me, resting her chin on my shoulder in a comforting manner.

"Everythin's gonna be alright, Abby." I squeezed my eyes close to prevent more tears from coming out, "My momma always told me that things are gonna get bad before they can get better, and I believe that."

We pulled away, and I looked at her through tear soaked lashes; uncertainty etched across my face, "Really?"

Kara nodded firmly, "Yes. You just gotta hang in there. It's not just about you and Dean—you have Megan to think about. I know you three are hurtin'," I slowly nodded, "and I know you and Dean are fightin' real bad," My eyes fell, "but I do know that you two love each other." Kara's hands moved from my shoulders to my face and smiled, "Right?"

I chewed on my bottom lip at the thought, "Without a doubt."

"Then you two will pull through." I was speechless at how optimistic Kara was of Dean and I's relationship and I wasn't. _Did we really let it get this bad?_

When I finally could find the words to speak, Gavin let out a sharp cry that made me jump a little. Kara giggled at me. It wasn't something I was really used to, as much as I desperately wanted it. I watched Kara bend over the crib and pick up my cousin. A small, soft smile formed on my lips upon seeing a pair of big, blue eyes staring back at me with tears in them. His pooched out lip was just the icing on the cake that caused me to grin at him. Surprisingly when I held my hands out to hold him, he went to me.

I held him close, bowing my head a little to look at Gavin closer, "You poor thing," I said with a small laugh as he popped his fist into his mouth, "…shrivel away to nothin'." Kara grinned at the both of us, thrilled.

"C'mon, I'll go make him a bottle." She said. I nodded, allowing Gavin to wrap his hand around my finger. I was grinning from ear to ear, wiggling my finger and his hand back and forth as we walked out from his room, descended the stairs and came up on the men in the living room. They were all standing, talking about something—_obviously _—when they paused, turning to us.

Kara practically skipped over to Charlie as the two kissed; both grinning like two high school kids, "Look who woke up from their nap," She said, motioning to their child in my arms. Charlie stared at his son from where he stood—yielding to the fact that I was deeply engrossed to packing Gavin around at the moment—with a smile. Sam and Dean were reserved, watching me interact with my baby cousin with sympathetic looks. Dean had this distant stare though, like he was in deep thought.

"He grew." Sam commented lightly, earning a chuckle from my uncle.

"Damn right he did." Charlie said proudly, "Kid's growin' like a weed, doin' different things e'ryday, always tryin' to motivate around, but he hasn't quite figured it out." His smile widened into a toothy grin, curling his arm around Kara's waist as he shook his head, "Gets madder 'n fire."

Gavin's head bobbed, turning to the source of the familiar voice of Charlie, and grinned, making a series of happy squeals and babbles. All of us broke out into smiles though, mine faltered. I wanted my daughter—to hold her like I was with Gavin right now, to see her eyes light up at the sight of Dean and Sam and me when she first wake up from a nap. I swallowed down a lump that was beginning to form, not noticing Dean's eyes falling on me.

"How big's Megan got?" Charlie asked.

He jumped slightly at the question as he was brought out from his thoughts. "She's, uh, four pounds and I think she's almost seventeen inches." Dean replied, looking over to me for confirmation. I nodded, seeing him smile over to Charlie, "Gaining weight like crazy."

My uncle nodded his head, "Betcha she's got you'uns wrapped around that tiny finger of hers."

Dean peered down at the floor a second with a grin, "Ah, not as much as what I thought." _Lie._

"Don't let 'im lie to ya, he's head over heels for 'er—both of 'em." I added softly, rocking Gavin back and forth in my spot. With a slobbery fist, he bopped me right in the face, making me flinch. Kara giggled while the other three chuckled, and I laughed at him, "I hear ya, son. I'm gonna give you back to your momma, and maybe next time you won't beat me half to death." I kissed his forehead quickly before handing him back to Kara, watching as she disappeared into the kitchen.

We all took a seat at the rather large sectional couch that was a mile wide. Dean quickly made himself at home, taking his jacket off and button up shirt. I wanted to pretend like everything was alright and sidle in beside him, be held close with his hand on my waist, but it felt like it would've been rehearsed.

"So, catch me up on what you'uns have been into. Ya'll been busy?" Charlie asked, sitting in his claimed seat with his legs crossed.

"Sort of," Sam started, "We've been taking jobs here and there…we take time off to spend time with Megan."

Charlie nodded, "Understandable. How do you do it, like take turns stayin' behind?"

Dean nodded, "Yeah, we try to…but lately Sam and I's been taking Abs with us. Don't want her to get rusty."

I snorted, "In your dreams, Winchester." Dean smirked, eliciting some kind of brief chuckle until I peeled off my jacket to reveal the long pink scar I had on my chest from Gordon. Dean and Charlie stared at it. Guilt and concern made it clear who it came from.

"Mind tellin' me what happened?" Charlie prompted with an arched brow over to Dean and I. Dean shifted under his gaze.

"A mistake that won't happen again." Dean assured, "I made a bad call, and it got her hurt."

Sam glanced at me with a confused expression. _A mistake? We saved lives_—_kind of_. "I don't see how savin' lives was a mistake." Dean threw me a glance that dared me to elaborate, "Comes with the territory."

"Elaborate for me then," Charlie folded his arms, interested in our fiasco with Gordon Walker. Dean shook his head, not wanting to remember that event. It was a bad call on his part, but with Sam and me, it meant a little more than a mistake; it opened our eyes to a lot of possibilities, changed our way of thinking on what we hunted.

_How many supernatural beings existed solely because of people believing in them? How many monsters had we killed that actually meant well and didn't mean harm to humans?_ I know it changed a lot of things for me, including John's outlook on them—shoot first, ask questions later. That rendered it moot. Sam and Dean took turns speaking, talking about their take of Gordon, what happened, and what was going to happen. Dean didn't mention that we were fighting, or about the fact that he endangered Megan's life.

"Charlie, man, you shoulda seen Abs." Dean added with a proud grin, "Tougher than a pine knot." Charlie's eyes softened at that, "She got a few blows, but she handed them right back to Gordon."

Charlie's hand went to his beard, running his fingers through it a couple of times out of thought, "Gordon's always been a sick puppy. Nothin' satisfies the sum'bitch unless he's killin'. It is quite the eye opener though with those veggie vamps." He said to Sam with a grin, "Good call to overturn a bad'n in my opinion." Dean fell silent, unsure of how to process Charlie's praise, "As for Abby-girl, I never had a doubt about 'er. The three of you had an exceptional teacher."

"Mighty kind of you to say that," Dean said, humble. Charlie nodded, looking at the three of us when Kara came back into the room with Gavin and a bottle. The atmosphere went from serious to bubbly in the matter of seconds. I finally gave in to the urge to sidle in beside Dean, quietly watching Charlie and Kara interact with their child. I felt his arm wind around me, and his hand rest on the back of my leg. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that Dean felt a little envious of my uncle and Kara, I think Sam was a little envious about it too, but this was supposed to keep my mind off of things…_talk_.

"Oh, by the way, those dumplin's should be done in no time," Kara piped up. Dean snapped out of whatever thought he had and smiled.

"I can't wait." He said with a smile in his voice, running his fingers subconsciously across the material of my jeans as if we haven't been mad at all. It was unbeknownst to him that I was fully aware of everyone emotions. Every stroke against my leg was something he was holding onto with a firm grip, for in the matter of seconds, minutes, and hours—I wouldn't be near him.

* * *

Later that night, under the cover of darkness I slipped out of bed, careful to not disturb Dean. This had long since become my routine; wait an hour or so for him to drift off to sleep, then pass out on the couch. Dean's light snores and even breathing assured me that he wasn't going to wake up, so as slowly as I could, I slipped out from under the warmth of the comforter. Dressed in a pair of blue plaid lounge pants that I had stolen off of Dean a while back and a white camisole, I padded over to the open bedroom door. Pausing at the door, I turned to stare at my sleeping boyfriend. He was every sense of the word 'calm'. His usual terse appearance was smoothed out into a peaceful and rather youthful expression. My heart tugged painfully at the sight of him in this peaceful state. Slipping out undetected, I went up the hallway to Gavin's room.

Entering, I heard movement coming from within his crib as well as little coos told me that he was wide awake. I approached the edge of his crib to see him looking around with a big grin. Smiling back at him when he saw me, I waggled my fingers at him, "Hey, buddy." His chunky little legs kicked out with excitement, "You wanna break out of this thing and hang out?" I asked.

Gavin went into a little series of kicking his legs and flailing his arms about, spitting bubbles. I chuckled at him, bending over to pick him up. We went through the usual routine with any baby; diaper change, bottle, and a comfortable place to hole up in. Since everyone was in a dead sleep, Gavin and I roamed the halls and house until we were back in his room sitting in the half-bed Kara had in there. Laying him on his side closest to the wall, I curled myself around him with my back facing outwards, watching in awe at this tiny little boy desperately wishing that Megan could be this size.

"You know, you'd like your cousin." I said lightly, "Her name's Megan and she's roughly about the size of a pineapple. It's not very big, really…but she's growin' everyday it feels like." Big blue eyes stared back at me, "If I'm gone for any amount of time, it just feels like I missed somethin' important. She's grown more, she's doin' somethin' new, or makin' some big achievement that I didn't see." I reached my hand out to slide my finger under Gavin's hand, only for it to be popped into his mouth. I giggled softly as he gummed at it, "Megan gets bigger, I'll bring her back over and you two can have a playdate…get to know your cousin."

A smile tugged at my lips in a tired fashion, "Playdate…never thought I'd be sayin' stuff like that. Never thought I'd be in this position I'm in either."

Thirty minutes passed by and Gavin had conked back out with me right beside him.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Charlie and Kara's House—Night**_

It had to be around midnight when I woke up. Instinctively, I reached my arm out to the other side of the bed—Abigail's side—to find it cold and empty. Again. With a grunt, I raised up onto an elbow rubbing my face with my left hand before I moved to get out of bed. The cool hardwood floor greeted my bare feet when I stood up, making my way out to the hallway. I already knew where Abigail would be at, sound asleep on the couch until each morning, always starting at night. Descending the stairs slowly, I stopped short to see the large sectional couch void of my girlfriend causing my chest to clench painfully at the realization that she might've skipped out on us.

That was quickly shoved down upon further inspection. Moving around the large furniture, there was a spot that had been disturbed recently. I spent the better half of thirty minutes walking through the living room, kitchen, downstairs, and garage until I could've kicked myself for being stupid—Gavin's room. From the arsenal room, I climbed the stairs passing our room, Sam's room; only to pause and peek inside seeing the television on and my brother sound asleep, and silently came to Gavin's room.

Charlie had showed it to Sam and I earlier while Kara and Abigail went to town, and I couldn't help but feel envious that I couldn't give my own daughter something like this. My search for Abigail quickly ended upon seeing her curled up in the half bed with Gavin splayed out beside her. I lost my breath seeing her in such a serene state. There were no signs of being burdened with the absence of our daughter written on her face, there was no sign that she was falling apart, and there was no look of shame or betrayal written in her expressions. It was just…calm; sated if that was the right word, or even pacified.

Taking a deep breath, I approached the edge of the half bed wary that any sudden movement would wake Abigail or the baby up. That wouldn't make me look creepy at all, would it? Running my hand gently against her hair, I needed to figure out a way to make things right between us. There had to be. Spotting the gray ottoman nearby, I slid it over carefully, ensuring that it wasn't going to make a sound, then lowered myself on it. Clasping my hands under my chin, I sat and watched the two sleep soundly.

I felt the corners of my mouth tip into a sad smile. Abigail was positioned over her cousin in a protective manner, knowing instantly that'd be how she would lay with Megan. Watching her interact with Gavin all day made it clear that she was already a good Mom, and yet it killed her to not be one, just like it killed me not being a Dad. There were too many hands doing our jobs, too many eyes that got to witness our child growing while we were here of all places. The thought itself bothered me, much like it bothered her. She hated being put on the sidelines back at the NICU, hated being separated for long lengths of time, and couldn't stand the fact that they poked around on Megan several times a day.

My smile faltered though knowing this time at night was the only time I got to look at her like this. Awake, Abigail would shy away and distance herself, often holding a grudging look in her eyes. It would always be overshadowed with shame and guilt, _from her dumbass stunt_. I had more problems to deal with and it was just piling on every day it seemed. The lack of being able to just reach out and touch her arm, hand, or some part of her body was an experience all of its own. The loss of that contact—that physical contact—was enough to gut me alive. I craved it like any man would. I missed it, but most of all, I missed her smile and her laugh. It hurt me more to not see that than what I would care to admit.

Lowering my head, I clenched my jaw. If we couldn't figure out a way to get past whatever rut we were in, then…I shook my head. I couldn't think like that. _Losing her? No. Hell no._

Abigail moved and I froze. I stared at her, wide-eyed that she was awake, and saw her lift herself up, only to move onto her back where she settled back down with her right arm raised above her head and her left stretched out. I waited a good thirty minutes to move, watching her ever so carefully when I slipped her hand into mine like I had done every night.

"Abs, I know you can't hear me…but we're gonna get this fixed. We're gonna be a family again." Even though I wasn't the one who had done the stunt, I felt responsible. And I was. I sighed, "If I lose you, then I lose a piece of myself, and I can't deal with that."

"I'm not even mad at you anymore…" Closing my eyes, I shook my head again, "I'm an ass. Grade-A douche-bag, Abs. So I don't blame you for doing what you did. I shoulda talked to you like you wanted…" Her chest rose and fell evenly. In the illuminated room, my eyes found their way to her neck where the necklace I had made her the year before glinted, "I love you, Abs…until the sun dies."

I remained sitting in the room for countless hours, watching over them until the early morning, and slid the ottoman back into place. Before I left, I lowered myself once more to her level and pressed a whisper of a kiss to her forehead, retreating back into the bedroom.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Morning**_

My fingers moved deftly across the neck of the guitar as I plucked away at the strings with my right hand. Wordlessly, I played _Mary_ in the morning air. I had been the first to wake up, putting Gavin in his crib as I left his room and picked my way outside onto the porch with a guitar in my hand. Sam was the next to wake up, fully dressed and rearing to go.

"Mornin'," I greeted as he came onto the porch, getting ready for his usual morning run.

He paused, seeming a little bewildered that I was up before him. His eyes swept my appearance in, "Uh, morning." Sam shook his head to get his hair out of his eyes, "How long have you been up?"

I shrugged, "A while. Before the sun came up."

"So you slept?" he asked.

I nodded, "Yeah."

"And?"

I stopped playing, looking up at him with an arched brow, "And, I slept pretty good." I sensed his approval as his eyes lit up at that.

"I'm glad… what about you and Dean?" He prompted.

"Eh…" His brow rose, "We're okay, I guess…I dunno. I don't really want to talk about my relationship this early in the day."

Sam nodded, "Gotcha…so, uh, I'll be back."

"Whatever you say Schwarzenegger." I teased as he bent over to quickly plant a kiss in my hair, before he mussed it up, "Seriously?! This early?!" I swatted at his arm before he practically ran off the steps, laughing the entire way down. I smoothed my hair down watching as he disappeared from sight until I started from the beginning of _Mary. _Again, I was silent, not really feeling the urge to sing—only to play. From inside, I could sense Dean watching and listening nearby.

Like back at the hospital, my heart clenched painfully just as his did, yet this time it was more intense. He was expecting words, but none came.

* * *

_**Dean's POV**_

I stood near the window with a steaming cup of coffee in my hands, listening to Abigail strum away at the guitar, talk to Sam and watch them interact. It made me jealous, which is a bad thing to say considering that Sam's my brother and all, however it made my blood boil. When Sam tore off down the steps after noogying her, I couldn't help but smile at it. For an hour or so I stood in place watching her, even after Sam had come back from his usual hamster wheel run.

At the wordless songs she played, I only imagined her singing them to Megan—soft and delicate. She had been unaware of my presence, even when a firm hand clapped onto my shoulder, causing me to jump a foot. I spun around, meeting Charlie's grin, and laughed nervously, "Charlie, you scared the crap outta me, man."

"Did I?" He asked with a chuckle. His eyes glanced behind me, out to the porch were Abigail was at, tipping his head at her direction, "She's a good player, ain't she?"

I glanced over my shoulder, "Oh, yeah. Yeah. Definitely." I replied, and took a pull of my coffee, "Could listen to her all day. Be better if she would sing though."

Charlie hummed, "That it would." He patted me on the shoulder, "C'mon, let's move this conversation outside." I followed him out onto another section of the porch, farther down away from her, and on the backside of the house. We settled into a set of rocking chairs, staring out at the mountainous landscape, "Good view this mornin'."

I glanced over at him and nodded, "Yeah. Sure is." In silence, I allowed myself to drift off into my thoughts, thinking of Abigail with Gavin. I began to think of how good she is with kids in general. She had some sort of touch. Around the corner, it sounded like, Abigail began to play Led Zeppelin's _Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You_, and my heart twisted like some strange omen. Charlie was humming it with closed eyes as he rocked back and forth in the rocking chair.

I took pull of my coffee tasting the strong, roasted flavor it held. It coated my tongue in velvety texture, almost like a good scotch, and damn, did I want some. I glanced down at the coffee almost wishing it would magically become some kind of liquor.

Charlie nudged me. I blinked a few times, bewildered. He had a flask in his hand, unscrewed with a grin, "You look like you need to be perked up."

_Shit._ "You're some kind of saint, Charlie, I'm tellin' you." I took the silver flask from him as he chuckled, resuming his even pace in the chair as I poured the flask's contents into my coffee. I took a swallow from the flask itself, and relished in the fact that it was whiskey—good whiskey.

"So, everythin' okay between the two of you'ns?" he asked. I turned my head at the question, handing back his flask, noticing his calm expression was laced with concern.

"We're great." I answered falsely, "Couldn't be better."

His brow raised at me, still in that even tempo he's been rocking back and forth to. To be honest, the look made me squirm. I've seen the look before many a time. It was one most pissed off father's held that look when they realize their 'little girl's' had been hurt or something like that. Quite possibly a look that I was going to have one of these days.

Apparently Sam had overheard Charlie's question as well as my answer as he was coming outside to join us, and just _had _tooffer his two cents, "Dean," Sam came in with a concerned look. "This has been going on for a while." Charlie paused, turning his head to fully look at me. I snapped my head back to Sam with a glare, _Thank you, Dr. Phil_. "Now, what happened?"

"It's between me and her." I replied simply. Our business didn't need to be broadcasted, but since Sam was always around us at the time, I guess it was. Truth is, I couldn't tell them what she did; making me think that she slipped away from me like at the hospital.

"Boy, I know when a man's hurtin'… I've seen a few in my day." Charlie lamented.

I took a deep breath, running a hand down my face, "That woman can be so manipulative..."

"Aren't they all?" He quipped.

I snorted, "Oh you have no idea. A week ago, I found her face down in the pool." Charlie furrowed his brows and ceased his rocking.

"Do what now?" He implored.

Sam blinked a few times to ensure he heard me right, "What? Abigail?"

"Yeah…" I muttered, taking a large swallow of my spiked coffee tasting the bite of alcohol behind it. _There we go._

"My God…" Sam said in disbelief.

"I pulled her out of the pool, and laid her down. She didn't answer me when called her name." I licked my lips, pushing myself back and forth in an agitated rock, "I thought I lost her again…Then she kissed me."

"Wait, so… you got Sandlotted by Abigail?" Sam said, shocked. "Dude, I thought only you could pull something like that." He started laughing with Charlie joining in. A burst of anger surged through me.

"Dude, we watched her get shocked by those doctors. You should know what it feels like to lose the one person you care about the most." Sam's laughter subsided, staring at me with those big eyes. _Dammit,_ I thought. I kicked myself in the ass for mentioning Jess that way.

"Dean that was a hard moment for the both of us." Sam's voice was tense, but light.

I hung my head, "That my point, Sammy." I explained. "I promised myself I'd never see her like that again, and she had the gall to pull something like that?"

Charlie let out sigh, "Dean, I know how you feel." He said, trying to level with me. "I almost lost Kara in an accident too. We were in a car accident, like y'all were, except, this was some drunk yahoo and not some demon. I woke up and found her bleedin' somethin' awful." I was surprised at how calm he was, "I barely felt a pulse, and she wasn't breathin'. No matter how much pain I was in, I just wanted her to breathe, an' be here with me. She came back, thank God." Sam and I were gob smacked, "But, I kept that fear that she would be outta my sight; never left her side."

I never knew that they were in a car accident. I wondered if Abigail knew about this. I saw this strong man look deeply wounded at the memory, "After she got outta the hospital, she had a breakdown, she walked into traffic in town, and I ran after her; scared that she was goin' to get hit. I pulled her to the side, scared—kinda like you were, Dean—and she realized what she had done was wrong." He finished. "Dean, we both talked about the accident, from both sides, and we listened to what the other had to say. Maybe, you and Abigail should listen to each other."

"I told her everything, and she did too." I said, hotly.

"But if she said everythin', she wouldn't still be actin' like this." Charlie replied. "Dean, I ain't your daddy, but I do know that you have got to be there for her for matter what."

"He's right Dean," Sam added gently, "Megan needs the both of you, and quite frankly—," His lips quirked into a grin, "you're moody when the two of you aren't getting along."

I stared at him for a moment with an incredulous look, "I'm not moody. You're moody."

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

As the day wore on, I was getting antsy. I needed some kind of solitude away from prying eyes, and I somehow found it out at Charlie's stables amongst the horses. I spent the better half of two hours mucking out the stalls, brushing out the horses, and slipping them each a bite of a Snickers bar. Biting my lip, I looked over my shoulder wondering if it would be a crime to get one of them out and just…take off. I decided against it a few times until I came to a blue roan pinto. Peering in between the bars to get a better look at the gender, I saw that it was a mare. I reached out to pat her on the nose, feeling the velvety softness under my fingertips, and relished it. Aside from riding, petting them was one of my favorite things to do.

"You wanna bust outta here for a little while?" I asked her. There was a snort in response, causing me to grin, "I'm takin' that as a yes, ol' girl." I unlatched her stall, taking her by the cloth halter she had on, and led her out to where I could slip it off, "We're gonna do a little bareback, if that's okay with you." She kept still for me after I patted her neck and lifted myself onto her back. Squeezing my knees, the pinto mare shot out of the barn like a bat out of hell. Needless the say that she left me breathless. The only thing I wanted to feel was the wind in my hair, the horse's hoof falls in a rhythmic beat, and the occasional whinny or snort coming from the beast. I rode through the winding trails, allowing briars to smack me in the face or tear at my arms. The sight of blood was oddly comforting along with the stinging sensation I felt after a minute passed. It let me know I was alive.

Suddenly the horse skidded to a halt, shifting uncomfortably in her place, ears swiveling every which way. She was scared of something, but what? I leaned forward, reaching my hand out to pat her neck gently, "Hey…" I soothed the frightened mare, "'s alright. What do you see?" Lightly, I squeezed my knees together to urge her on, only for the frightened horse to stomp her left hoof with a snort. I winced, holding my hand to my head when the voices had reached an all-time high of volume. It was basically a roar, where I couldn't even begin to hear what was around me.

_Don't go ahead…He's watching you…Turn and leave!_ They would say. I nudged the horse with my feet, keeping a firm hand on my hand and another on the lower half of her mane when she jolted forward in a dead gallop. Something was scaring my uncle's horse, which made me increasingly wary even if my head was being overrun with yells and roars from voices I _knew_ weren't real. In spite of myself and the voices, I sought out a voice. One that was always comforting, always there when I needed comfort…but I couldn't hear it. Not even one whisper.

That was when I was suddenly launched into the air. I didn't even know what happened or what caused the move. All I know is that I hung in the air for a split second, felt a crushing weight into my thigh, and then a solid hit with my body altogether. I couldn't even move to curl up. I laid spread out, staring numbly into the sky with the sound of hooves thundering against the ground rapidly getting quieter. After what felt like thirty minutes of just lying on the ground, I forced myself to sit up. My hands gripped the grass beneath them, pulling it when a sharp pain erupted from my lower back.

I groaned. That horse had kicked me mid-fall! Another groan surpassed my lips when I started to rub at my leg gingerly. I _had _to get on my feet, assess where I was at. Doing so, I tested out my leg, feeling the strain from being kicked. It just exploded, causing me to grit my teeth when I looked around, twisting my body as I did so. This place was familiar, _way_ too familiar. My heart was hammering against my chest like a sledgehammer once I realized where I was at…

I was home.

I had been bucked off at the same little pond where I would take my brother and sisters, and just let them play. I covered my mouth, hearing the voices and what sounded like children's laughter ring out in the distance. I remembered everything, clear as day.

* * *

_**Thirteen Years Ago**_

_"Alright guys, do you want to go on the long trail or the short trail?"_

_"Long!" The three of the said in chorus, and with a roll of my eyes, I smiled._

_"How did I know?" I muttered, placing a hand on my thigh where my Smith and Wesson .09 millimeter handgun was strapped securely. I never left without it, for the exception of school, "M'kay, Mikey, you're up front, Shelbs, you're in the middle, and Alyssa, you're in front of me."_

_My brother looked back at me with a smile as he nudged Oreo in the sides. The pinto gelding began walking, followed by the Appaloosa mare, then the little palomino. Gently nudging Dunn, he then began to walk, the sounds of hooves hitting the floor echoed until we made it outside until they were dull thumps. It was a beautiful day after all, so why not make the best of it?_

_As the day proceeded, the four of us enjoyed our day out in the sun. Resting beside the pond that was on our property, Oreo, Dunn, Dot, and Snickerdoodle stayed near the water's edge drinking as I kept an eye on my siblings who ran around and played tag, whilst I sat in the grass. I couldn't help but have an unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I picked up on what spooked 'doodle, but whatever it was, I didn't like it. Something just told me to run or fight, and I frowned at that. Things like that don't normally happen to me while I'm home, but I guess as a hunter, you have to keep your wits about you. This world wasn't as safe as someone who didn't know about the dangers of the supernatural would put it._

* * *

"This isn't happenin'…" I breathed out, refusing to admit that I was close to…_it_. I looked around, searching for my uncle's horse. It was nowhere in sight, long gone, leaving me stranded. "This ain't happenin'…" My fingers ran throughout my tangled tresses, knowing that I needed to head back in the direction I came from, but didn't. Instead of going the opposite direction, I headed down a short route, the short route I used to take when it was just myself. More or less it took a while since my leg was killing me. I would pause every moment or so, swearing that I was hearing children laughing not too far into The layout was still the same, grown over with shrubs, briars and such, but the same. Each step I took brought me closer to my roots. Where it all began. _One more reason to turn back around and head back to the trail_, my consciousness managed to say.

Once again, my body betrayed me. I pushed on, feeling twigs and gravels pop under my feet, until I came to what appeared to have been the stables. I came up to the doors, seeing a set of chains and pad lock secure the doors, reaching out to fingered around with the lock, inspecting really, and dug out my lock pick set from my coat. In the matter of minutes, I had it unlocked, unchained and slid the stable doors open, entering the abandoned structure with my mini flashlight in tow and not another glance.

It was dark inside, though with boarded up windows, I guess it would be dark. The only sources of natural light other than just the beam from my flashlight came from cracks in the boards, what looked like bullet holes in the side of the walls, and a hole in the roof. In the light given with the help of my flashlight, I peered into each of the empty stalls. No living thing having inhabited it for some time. _Go figure_.

Turning my eyes to the once pristine, stable floor, a deep frown set seeing that the ground under my feet was dirt, leaves, and I don't know how old straw—it wasn't fresh. It also held a musty, moldy smell; a scent I knew very well that usually came with all abandoned structures. With a heavy sigh, I pushed further in, slowly approaching the tack room. I bit back a flood of emotions, all of which were my own. The tack room still had bridles, saddles, mildewed horse blanket as a couple of mice scurried out. I jumped back, grimacing at them. "Nasty…" I muttered, slowly stepping into the room. With my flashlight, I glanced over each piece of tack—each withholding a memory of when my family was alive—feeling my eyes burn with tears.

I reached out to pull a bridle towards me…_Dunn Got It Made_. I bowed my head, closing my eyes as I remembered my former horse. He was handsome when he was alive—soft pink nose, a serious _Snickers_ addiction, a beautiful sorrel color.

* * *

_**Thirteen Years Ago**_

_It had been a few days since I had even seen my horse, a beautiful sorrel Quarter horse by the name of Dunn Got It Made or as I called him, Dunn. That familiar velvety soft, pink nose poked out of his stall as I walked up to him with a soft smile, "Hey buddy, it's been a while hasn't it?"_

_Dunn's big brown eyes stared back at me, pawing at the stall door. I couldn't help but laugh, "Hold on, big guy, I gotta get the kids out." I dug into my jean short's pocket and pulled out a half-eaten Snickers bar, putting my hand through the bars of the stall. Dunn moved over to where my hand was at, picking up the candy bar and chewed. I patted his muzzle before meeting Michael at his horse's stall._

* * *

Gazing up to the ceiling to stave off my tears, I pulled out my pocket knife, cutting the aged brass nametag off and moved to the other three: _Oreo, Snickerdoodle, _and _Dot._ I felt like it was my job to get them. I turned to leave the room, seeing something catch my eye.

Kneeling, I reached out to the wall, smiling to myself when I saw three initials carved: _A.C., M.C., S.C,_ _D.W.,_ and _S.W._ We were a family. We had made a vow to keep each other safe—keep _our_ family safe. Dean was the one who had coaxed us out of the house. He was ten, I was nine, Sammy was six, the twins were five, and Alyssa had turned one. I reached into my inner coat pocket for my cellphone, flipped it open, and with the flashlight helping, I took a picture of our initials. I _needed_ to remember this. Everything here. The way the ground felt under my feet, the way the air smelled. I had to.

Back outside, I trailed along the old gravel path. It was washed out and rutted from years of neglect, but needless to say, it brought me to where I was going. Towering above me was the ruins of my old home like some kind of monolith, an atonement for my sins. I couldn't hardly breathe the longer I looked at it.

* * *

_**Thirteen Years Ago**_

_"Go to the stables, and I'll handle all of the horses. Get to the house." I said loud enough for them to hear. With unspoken nods, we all made it back to the stable double time. I hopped down, going to Alyssa, then to Mikey, and finally to Shelby._

_Getting ready to open her mouth, I gave her a dark look, "Don't say a word, I mean it Shelby. Get to the house and start pouring salt at every door and window seal, Alyssa, Mikey, you do the same."_

_I took off all the saddles, and bridles to the horses and showed them back into their stalls. Patting each one on the rump, I shut the stable doors behind me pulling out my handgun. The feeling worsened by the minute as I slowly made my way around the house, checking its perimeter. With a shaky breath, my hands mimicked the action as well. Over the course of my perimeter check, my heart rate shot up. Seeing that it was all clear, I made my way back to the front of the house. The sky, by this time had turned into an ominous dark gray, lightning streaking every now and then in the distance._

_Opening the door, I stepped over the line of well-placed salt. My eyes flickered to each window and door, seeing lines of salt where they needed to be. That feeling ebbed away knowing that my siblings had done something right, and for that, I was relieved. Getting to the living room, I found the twins and Alyssa sitting on the couch, their backs turned to me. I blew out a sigh._

_"You guys did well," I said, "I'm going to call Mom and Dad, see how long it's going to be when they get here."_

* * *

I shook my head to pull me out of the past. I was getting angry at myself, ashamed that I hadn't done a thing to help them. Like it was some animate object that could speak and feel, I crouched picking up a fistful of rocks; big or small as I whizzed them all at the scorched house. I kept picking them up and throwing until I stumbled and fell, hissing in a breath when a piece of rock had lodged itself in my palm, "God _damn it_!" I shrieked out in anger, hearing it echo across the desolate property of my former parents. There was a crack of thunder rumbling off somewhere.

_Hold on. Be strong. Remember what you're fighting for…_My father's voice rumbled in the back of my mind. I was six. It was my first time holding a bow, much less shooting one. He had made an outline of several monsters—painstakingly realistic ones. After practicing for almost two hours a day, I had become quite the shot.

It didn't matter now. All that mattered was the fact that I was throwing a fit in the dirt and gravel, bleeding. I guess you could say that I had long since went into a grief induced rage, bypassing it into a hysterical fit. I grabbed another handful of gravel, slinging it to the house before I rested my head on my knees momentarily, chest heaving.

My dad's voice seemed to have echoed from within: _Say hey, good lookin' - what ya got cookin'? How's about cooking somethin' up with me?_ _Hey, sweet baby - don't you think maybe, We can find us a brand new recipe?_

I blew out shaky breath in response, "_I got a hot rod Ford, and a two dollar bill, And I know a spot right over the hill, There's soda pop and the dancing's free, So if you wanna have fun, come along with… me._" My hands clenched into fists as a sob tore through my body. I didn't stop, I _couldn't. _

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry." I repeated the mantra until my face was red, and a lone raindrop hitting my face. I looked up at the sky, seeing the swirling, black rainclouds that threatened to spill. "Dad…it's all my fault. Everythin's my fault." Another raindrop fell, then another, and then another until it was coming down in a steady downpour. I didn't budge, "I shoulda died…I shoulda never come back. John shoulda lived—"I shook my head, "He should be here right now with Sam and Dean and not me, Dad." I felt so lost, "What am I supposed to do…?"

There was another crack of thunder, "_What am I s'posed to do_?!" I yelled out, feeling confident I had returned the ferocity. Lightning flashed across the sky, shortly followed by thunder, "I'm just a failure…I failed you and Mom..." My chest heaved a couple of times as I fought to catch my breath, "I failed Mikey, Shelby, and Alyssa…" I looked around me, torn, "And I failed John…so tell me what I'm supposed to do. _Please_."

_Hold on. Be strong. Remember what you're fighting for…_

There was a rumbling sound from behind me, then a dull bang and shouts that consisted of, "Abs!" and "Abigail!" alerted me that it was Dean. My hair and clothes where soaked, clinging to me like cold saran-wrap. I didn't bother to move. Not even when he had sprinted over to me—unexplainable worry surging from him—I kept sobbing. However, a pair of arms gathered me as the scent of leather, cologne, and motor oil elated my senses and a pair of impeccable green eyes met mine, "Jesus Christ, Abs." He murmured capturing my face in between his calloused hands, "What the hell happened?"

"It's my fault…" I sobbed out. Dean wiped my face, only for the rain to coat it in a thin sheen. His eyes swept my face and body in search of injuries, "It's all my fault."

Dean settled beside me with a grunt, pulling me against him until I was very well in his lap, "No, it's not." He murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. I shook my head at him.

"It is…"

"Abs, what happened with your family isn't your fault." His arms tightened around me, burying his face into my neck, "None of this is your fault…"

"They're all dead because of me…_everyone_." I tried to pull away from him, only to be dissuaded by his grip, "There ain't a damned thing you can tell me otherwise." I was waiting for him to snap at me, get angry. It never came. I didn't sense it from him, nor did he get frustrated like he did when I was being inconsolably ignorant. Instead, he was patient, keeping me close and tight in his arms; one hand had begun to rub my back, "What am I s'posed to do?" I muttered, "I failed my parents, my sisters and brother, _Dad_…" I felt Dean's body stiffen, "…I failed you and Sammy and Megan."

Dean rested his chin on my head for a moment in thought. I couldn't see his face. I sensed his hurt and heartbreak squeeze my chest, adding to mine, "No you haven't." He murmured, "You didn't fail any of us…especially Megan." There was a slight hitch in his voice at the mention of our daughter.

"Yes I did." I said harshly from against his chest, only to have him plant a gentle kiss to the side of my head and squeeze me slightly. He wasn't here to belittle me. Rather, he was here to comfort, to worry and be concerned like he had so badly wanted, "Why don't you just go back to Charlie's and leave me alone?"

Dean shook his head, "I can't do that."

"You have before."

Dean's head tilted in consideration, "True, but I promised that I'd come back with you."

"Well, I'm not leavin' with you." I said haughtily, feeling a rise of frustration. There was a loud clap of thunder, causing me to jump from the intensity of it. Dean didn't miss a beat. He only held me tighter, a chuckle catching at the back of his throat.

"Let's get in the car," He suggested, "We're soaked."

"Let's not and say we did." I retorted stubbornly, hearing him blow out a loud breath.

"Quit being ignorant or I swear I'll pack you to Baby myself," He stated, getting impatient. I managed to wriggle away from him, getting to my feet to see him looking up at me with an irritated expression melded across his face. It was true, he was soaked. His hair wasn't its usual scruffy style, and he hadn't shaved in a few days. I didn't really take notice of that until now. He rose to his feet with a grunt, casting a glance to the ruins of my old home. Dean stared at it for a long moment before he focused back on me, the irritated look had softened as he motioned to it, "Thought you said you'd never come back."

"You went back to yours…"

He glanced to the sky when another clap of thunder boomed. It was louder, obviously getting closer, "But there's nothing left here."

My eyes fell to the ground, "I know…" I threw a look over my shoulder to the stables again. It wasn't too far of a trudge in the rain, so I turned, ignoring the confused look I received from Dean.

"Where are you going?" He questioned. His mind was set on the safety of the Impala.

I shrugged, "Just walkin'…" He groaned, twisting to look back to his car.

"You know the Impala's right there…right?" He questioned.

I nodded, not looking back, "I know…" The sound of the gravels crunching under his boots followed behind me as I approached the sliding doors of the stables. Wordlessly, I slid them open, not bothering to close them and found two old stools, setting them near the entrance but with some considerable distance between them. Dean saw this and frowned, slightly upset that I was still being 'this way' as he would put it, should he voice his opinion.

He noticed something, blood on my hand to be exact, "What happened?" he asked. I looked down, remembering that I had a piece of gravel in my hand.

"Doesn't matter…" I muttered.

"You fell." Dean stated.

I shrugged at him, "I'll get it out later." I sat down on the stool, resting my elbows on my knees, then my chin on my knuckles only for Dean to stand in front of me and crouch, pulling my wrist forcibly, but gently away to inspect the damage I did to myself. I sighed heavily at his need to check on every little thing, "Dean—"

"I'm getting it out, Abs." He deadpanned, "It's gotta hurt."

"I barely feel it." It was the truth. I had taken Vicodin shortly before I made my trek from the pond to the stables the first time to ease off the pain in my thigh.

Hazel orbs held mine for a beat, "Liar." I opened my mouth to protest, only to be dissuaded by the look his eyes held. Dean held my hand in his tenderly, taking note of every little scratch and scrape it contained as he ran his thumb across it. A twinge of pain caused me to wince, "You wanna know why I say that?"

"Enlighten me," I mused in a dry tone.

"I know all your looks." My stomach knotted up, feeling as if a million or so butterflies were fluttering around in there. Relenting, I nodded at him as an 'okay' for him to take the piece of rock out. It took a few seconds to do it, and I felt a sense of relief when it left my palm. Dean patted the side of my leg with a smile, "We'll head back to the Impala after this rain quits and get your hands cleaned up, then you'll be good as new."

I nodded, unsure of what to say to him, but when I opened my mouth to even say 'Thank you', Dean passed the stool assigned to him to explore the old stables. From behind me, Dean looked around, emitting a low whistle, "It's been a while since I've been in here." He commented.

I looked over my shoulder to find Dean digging in his pockets for a flashlight only for me to pull mine out and toss it to him. "Thanks…" I nodded, watching him inspect every inch of the place. He sidestepped the rain pouring in from the hole in the roof, eyes flitting up to it as he did so, and paused at the tack room door, "I take it you've already been here?" I hummed in response as he stepped in, the beam of light flashing out of the room occasionally, then he popped his head out, urging me to come in with him.

"I've already been…" I told him.

"Come on, quit being a stickler." He teased, his eyes glittering in a boyish fashion. Despite the fact that I was trying so hard to keep a safe distance away from him…it was beginning to be difficult. Reconciling, I stood just outside the door, watching him in silence as he kneeled, smiling in a reminiscing manner. Underneath that smile, I felt his pain and remorse, "You remember when we did that?" he asked, looking up to me.

"The carvings?" I asked. He nodded, those eyes glittering in the illumination, "Of course, you were ten and I was nine."

His smile widened till the corners of his eyes crinkled, "I can't believe it's still here."

"If it's built by a Colt, it's built to last." I mused with a chuckle from Dean in response. I slowly stepped into the room and crouched looking at the initials carved into the wall—the order to be exact. It started with the oldest being Dean and I, we were side by side at the top. Then Sam's, Mikey, and Shelby's below ours, and at the main bottom, I had carved Alyssa's since she was too small. Dean started to check his pockets, earning a curious look from me as he pulled out a pocket knife. I fully turned my head, watching as he flipped the blade out and carved _M.W._ after his before carving a plus between mine and his, then an equal sign between his and _M.W._ My breath caught in my throat when I realized that he had put Megan's initials among the wall.

We sat staring at the initials—both old and new—in silence. "I know this isn't going to make things alright with us, Abs…but," He said in a light tone, breaking the silence, he trailed off, shaking his head against whatever he was going to say. Outside, it was now a gulley washer, big fat drops hitting the roof with torrential force. Dean glanced out of the door with his lips in a thin line, "And it looks like we're not getting out of here any time soon, so…" He closed the pocket knife, putting it back in his pocket before he pulled out his cellphone and took a picture of the wall. I smiled lightly at that, then he pocketed his phone as if he didn't do anything prior, "Might as well wait."

Straightening back up, we both became aware of how close we were. I found myself staring at Dean a little longer than what I was intending and met the mutual look from him in turn. Dean reached out, slowly tucking a thick strand of hair that matted together behind my ear, his fingertips lightly hovered over my skin as he watched himself move his hand down until he caressed my cheek. I would catch his eyes drop down to my lips every so often before licking his bottom lip pensively.

_I need to move away…_I thought.

Then I realized Dean was unsure of what he should do, yet he was Dean Winchester. He was never supposed to be unsure of anything he did. It was always, shoot first-ask questions later. Like his final decision was made, Dean tipped his head until his lips were barely caressing mine. It was a tentative gesture on his part, something that couples on the first date would do. however, when I solidified the kiss by responding in the same fashion, he pressed against me harder—sensing that little jolt of surprise from him—and forcefully filled my mouth with his tongue.

_I should push him away._ I thought ruefully. _I didn't need to be doing this_. I could see my consciousness now, staring me down in disapproval like some old librarian as I lifted my hands to curve them over his shoulders. _I need to push him away, not pull him closer_.

Truth is, I wanted him just as badly as he wanted me, and like a dying man in a desert coming across an oasis, Dean wasted no time on reacquainting himself with my lips and mouth.

A flash of heat swept across me like a torrential inferno when he swept his tongue over mine. His mouth was strong and fierce on mine, always searching for some form of a response that I was all-too eager to give in return. His arms loosened around me, stroking his hands down my body until his fingers had curled under my ass—then lifted me up. I let out a startled gasp from the move, not because I didn't know how strong he was, _I did_, but I wasn't exactly expecting the fact that my entire body was buzzing to life like a shockwave of electricity coursed through me.

I sensed a flurry of heat spill over me again, like my gasp had tugged at something within Dean—something primal—as he kissed me deeply. It was absolutely breathtaking as he took two steps and pinned me against the doorframe of the tack room with his body, securely locking me in place with his arms. From what I felt and _sensed_, the word inferno was barely beginning to scratch the surface. He pulled his mouth away from mine, beginning to kiss his way down my neck.

A soft, sigh passed through my lips at the foreignness of his touch and the intensity of his kisses. When he made it to where my neck curved into my shoulder, he hesitated, and as gently as he could, his teeth captured a tiny bit of the sensitive skin in that area, nipping it. My chest pushed out against his in an arch as his hands came to my waist, shoving up the hem of shirt so that he could feel my skin. He let out a low sound, like a growl almost.

I felt it reverberate deep within my chest, just like I felt the intensity of how raw Dean's need was. Then a thought crossed my mind, _the absence of clothes_. It was beginning to be a problem, and I needed to feel my skin against his in a feverish way. I pushed my hands underneath his jacket, making a move to simply push it off of him, but the more we were engrossed in each other, the more I was beginning to realize that my senses were being overrun with Dean's.

_Freak_.

I retracted my hands quickly from his shoulders, breathing hard as I did so, "I can't—Dean, stop." He pulled back in the same fashion, more or less startled and confused at the urgency in my voice.

"What is it?" His eyes were a molten hazel color that seemed to have honey mixed in. I swallowed the lump in my throat, "Abs, what's wrong?"

I shook my head, "Let me down." Dean hesitated, still not understanding, then slowly let me plant my feet firmly on the ground although we retained our closeness. I shook my head, distressed. "I can't—we can't…"

"What? Abs, tell me…" I bit my lip at the confusion in his voice, "We can't what? Do this?" I knew he meant kissing and touching and whatever, so I nodded, shame-faced. Dean blinked at me, the gears in his head working overtime to compensate what was going on. There was a surge of disbelief running from him, a painful one. I closed my eyes to prevent myself from looking at him, "If you're still pissed at how we've been this past week, then I understand. I'm not even mad about it anymore. I got the point across. I'm a dick, you had a good reason behind what you did. You got me to talk."

I shook my head slowly, "It's not that, Dean."

"Then what is it?" he asked, impatient, "Tell me."

_The fact that I have a new ability and known about it for quite some time, and relapsed? I'll jump right on that_. I shook my head, "You won't understand."

Dean stared at me, mouth agape slightly, "Wait...what? _I _won't understand?" He scoffed, "What is this? Opposite day or something? Abs, I'm the most understanding person you know."

I snorted, "Actually, Sam is, but he's not here." Dean looked taken aback at my comment, almost seeming like he'd been slapped. He took a step away from me, eyes narrowing.

"It's always Sam." He growled.

"Yeah, it's _always Sam_, because he knows me better than you ever cared to!" I snapped.

"Knows you better than _me_?" He bit out a harsh laugh, "Yeah, he _knows_ you so well that he's got a kid with you. Been with you for nearly eight _fucking_ years, and has saved _your ass_ on several occasions. Yeah, Sam _sure does_ know you better than me." I glared at him, biting the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. Pacing in the tack room, Dean tore down the old, weathered racks, sending them crashing to the ground as he turned back to me, eyes glinting dangerously, "You know what? If you want Sam so bad, _since he knows you better than me_, then go to him! I bet he'd just _ooze_ with joy."

"Maybe I fuckin' will! Give our kid a reason to call him daddy." I snapped, feeling a stab to the heart.

Dean's face smoothed out into an eerily calm expression that hid a look of sheer rage, "Go to hell." He growled out.

"I'll bring you down with me…" I said coolly, turning on my heels to leave. It was still pouring the rain when I emerged from the stables, getting soaked in the matter of seconds as I walked past the charred ruins of my home and the Impala. There was a series of loud crashes from the stables indicating that Dean was destroying everything around him in his rage induced fit. I continued on until I made it to the end of the long drive, coming onto the long stretch of road. I started in the direction of Charlie's, making it a good mile or so until the loud roar of the Impala was heard at a distance.

I stared ahead, dead set on walking back to Charlie's myself, but when the sleek black bonnet of the Impala sidled up beside me, I merely threw it a glance, "Get in the car."

"I don't think so," I said in a defiant manner, not looking at Dean.

"Get in the damn car, Abigail." Dean snarled out. I ignored him, hearing the tires screech at Dean suddenly hitting the breaks. I walked ahead until the car door opened, followed by a series of boots hitting the pavement. He had caught up to me in to no time, gripping my elbow tightly and jerked me to face him, "Cut the shit and get in the damn car!"

I shook my head at him, "I'll be damned." I jerked my arm out his grip, and turned to start walking. Dean cursed loudly, then grabbed my arm again before he twisted me around and slung me over his shoulder, "What the fuck?!" I screeched out, "Let me the fuck go!" He ignored my angry protests as well as me pummeling my fists into his back, and practically tossed me into the front seat of the Impala before he got in the driver's side, slamming it shut.

* * *

Making it back to Charlie and Kara's, I got out as soon as he hit the brakes. Dean got out soon after, rounding the front of the car to cut me off, "What the hell is your problem?"

"You! You're my problem! You're all of my problems!" I exclaimed, trying to sidestep him, alas, he was having none of it.

"Then what's the point of us even being together anymore? Cause quite frankly, I'm sick of your shit!" He blurted out, then instantly regretted it. I stared at him for a beat, stunned at what he had said. His eyes widened, horrified at what he just told me, taking a step towards me with the intent on apologizing, "Abs, I—"

"No, you're right…what's the point?" I deadpanned, "There's obviously nothing here."

"Abs, don't—" Dean took another step toward me and I took a step back just as Sam, Charlie, and Kara came out of the house. _Great, an audience._ "I didn't mean to say it like that."

"No, no. You're right…" I worked my jaw oddly, then I felt my lips curl into a cynical smile, "We're bad for each other; like fire and gasoline." Dean's face paled, looking so distraught at what this had become, "You made your bed, Dean Winchester—lay in it." I passed him up, by passing our onlookers as I climbed the stairs to fetch my bag. Sam was right behind me.

"Abs, what's going on?" He asked.

I glared at him, "Don't."

My brother paused, taken aback at the tone of my voice, "What'd Dean do?" He followed me into Dean and I's room where he stood, watching me shove clothes into my bag with wide eyes, "Are we leaving?"

"No, just me." I replied curtly.

"Wait, you're leaving?"

"Yeah, Sam. I am." I paused, looking at him with my lips firmly set into a thin line, "Dean and I…we're not together anymore."

Sam's face knitted into a look of disbelief "What?"

"Yeah…so, I'm leavin'. Don't come lookin' for me—either of you." Sam swallowed down a lump, blinking furiously. He was deeply upset, "Don't ask me what happened…just…" Sam stared at me with those big eyes of his, "Forget about me, a'ight?"

"What about Megan?" he asked softly.

I pressed my lips together, upset about the outcome of this when it came to my daughter, "You'll know when I've been there. I'll see if we can figure some kind of visitation thing. Ashley will call and give ya'll the details." Sam nodded, then as I zipped up the bag, I sighed, "I'm sorry, Sam—"

He stared at me with tears in his eyes, "Sammy."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Sammy, not Sam." I stared at him in silence, touched that he still wanted me to call him that. I hugged him tightly, earning a heartfelt embrace in return, then felt his body quiver trying to stifle off crying, "Am I gonna see you again?"

My heartstrings tugged at his question, "I don't know, Sammy…"

"You don't gotta do this, Abigail." Sam said hoarsely, "You don't gotta leave. I-I mean, c'mon," He pulled back to look at me through watery eyes, "You're my Psychic Twin." The corner of his lips quivered as he forced a smile.

"I know we are," I told him.

"What about this whole powers and abilities? What if I end up having another premonition?" He asked, suddenly becoming anxious, "Abigail, if you leave…what am I gonna do?"

"You have Dean. He's your brother." I said gently.

"He doesn't understand this like you do, though. You don't see me as some freak." Sam argued, trying to find ways to keep me here.

"Sam…if you have a premonition, anythin' of the sorts—then call me. Not Dean, you. Solely you." I glanced to the clock on the wall, and I felt as if time was running out for me, "I love you, Sammy. Don't forget that okay?" Sam's arms tightened around me once again, pressing his lips against the side of my head firmly.

"Okay…" he breathed out, "Okay…" We stepped back, and I almost broke down crying. Sam's puppy dog eyes were in full effect, and crying. I reached up, smiling at him softly, and wiped them away like I would do on occasions. Squeezing his eyes shut, he hung his head, "I'm gonna miss you."

"Me too. Don't fight with Dean…he doesn't need it." I told him gently, "He's got enough on his plate." Sam furrowed his brows, and as bad as he wanted to retaliate, he didn't, "Be good, for me." I stepped past him, to meet Kara and Charlie in the hall. They looked bewildered, though they heard Sam and I's conversation. I shook my head at them, "I'll call you in a couple of days. I promise." Kara nodded, tearfully. "Charlie, don't take this out on Dean…it's not his fault. None of it. It's me. I just need more time."

Charlie stared at me with doubt in his eyes, "I know you do, Abby-girl, and you're just like your daddy and a spittin' image of your momma. Spittin' fire and startin' fights in an empty room." He looked down at his hand for a moment, making me glance to it and back to his face, "I've been waitin' for this for a long time. Couldn't really pick a good time to give this to you, but now's better than never."

"What?" Charlie extended his hand, revealing a set of keys. Dropping them in mine, I stared at them. They were vaguely familiar, and when it hit me, I teared up, "This is…?"

"Yeah, your daddy's car. Got 'er fixed up and runnin' like a dream." He said with a small smile, "Don't wreck 'er or anythin' and I won't tear into Winchester, much as it sounds like a good idea. You got my word." I nodded, forcing a smile at him.

"I'm sorry about this guys…" I started. Kara simply shook her head, smiling sadly.

"Don't be. Just call us when you can." Kara said, "Be careful, and we love you."

"You too." I muttered, hefting my duffle over my shoulder. Charlie followed me down the stairs where Dean was sitting in the living room, hands clasped and leaned over with his head bowed. He lifted his head a hair to watch me walk by. I paused, merely throwing a glance at him, "Dean…lose my number. Like, I told Sam. Don't come lookin' for me. Ashley'll call you when I have somethin' figured out about visitations with Megan."

Dean's face crumpled, unable to speak as I walked out the door with Charlie beside me. Outside, Charlie opened up the garage to reveal my dad's pristine cherry red 1969 Dodge Charger R/T 500—his baby. Under the circumstances, I couldn't stand and gawk and thank my uncle for this like I wanted to. All I could do was hug him quickly and get into the driver's seat where I took a moment to relish in my father's memory.

Starting the engine, it roared to like an ancient volcano erupting with life as I pulled out, passing the Impala, Kara, Sam, and Dean. I didn't know where I was going, or what I was going to do, but Bobby's wasn't an option right now, nor was the Roadhouse. It was just me against the world. A two hours later and a hundred miles out, I stopped along the interstate heading towards South Dakota and I started to cry. I cried until it became hysterical sobs that made my chest hurt and throat sore with every breath, leaning forward against the steering wheel of my car to allow the weight of the world to crash upon me. With closed eyes, Sam and Dean's despondent appearances haunted me.

It was better off that way. It had to be.

* * *

**Okay, so I decided to write out an original chapter that took me forever and a day to finish! I hope this was okay! *runs and hides and peeks out from corner* I promise ya'll I'll have out Simon Says to make up for the feels in this chapter! Like I said earlier, it's gotta get bad before it can get better! **

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**I'd love to thank _Ladysunshine6_ for lending some help with writing a few scenes and adding in a few things-Charlie and Dean's conversation. ****I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise. ****I would absolutely die if fanfiction .net took this down for my stupidity.**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me, I love receiving both!**

**Also, in case ya'll didn't see in the previous chapter, I made a Tumblr for this series! So, if ya'll have a Tumblr account, go check it out and feel free to follow me! (:**

**Tumblr: coltabigail dot tumblr dot com!**

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**The song for this chapter: _Broken Frame_ by Alex &amp; Sierra. Ya'll gotta check it out, it's a beautiful song!**

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**angelicedg\- Shhh! We don't want to spoil things, but this 'special guest' will make quite a few appearances as we go! haha. Trust me, things will get better in Simon Says. That I can promise. c:**

**Guest\- Thank you! I'm glad you do and welcome!**

**giddyfan\- Indeed so with the Winchester's being Winchester's, but there had been _loads_ of hints on the angels throughout _Bad Company_. haha. (;**

**grapejuice101\- Haha. Thank you! I'm glad you liked it!**

**sarahmichellegellarfan1\- Simon Says will be a big sigh of relief for everyone! I promise! **

**ebonywarrior85\- Awe thank you! It means a lot! Hopefully ya'll aren't mad at me for this chapter! Yeah, I've watched bits and pieces of it, and the CGI is too much for me. haha. But I _loved_ Amber Heard in it-Piper essentially inspired me to create Abigail.**

**zikashigaku\- Oh trust me, they irritate me and I'm the writer! haha. Like I told everyone, Simon Says will make up for it! **

**SkyQueen1111\- Thank you so much for checking it out! I know Travis Fimmel is like, around the same age as Jensen Ackles and whatnot, but in Vikings he seems so much older! He just seemed like a good fit for Charlie since he's based off of a character Fimmel plays in Baytown Outlaws (if you haven't watched it, do so! It's great!) And I listened to that song...I love it! It definitely speaks volumes about their strength, so thank you for suggesting it! Love you too! c:**

**Mia (guest)\- Thank you so much for reviewing! Yes, she's definitely heading down that route, especially now since everything in this chapter happened. Don't worry though, it'll get better. (:**


	9. Simon Said

_I'm gonna find me _

_A hole in the wall_

_I'm gonna crawl inside and die_

_'Cause my lady, now_

_A mean ol' woman, Lord_

_Never told me goodbye_

_Can't you see, oh, can't you see_

_What that woman, Lord, she been doin' to me_

_Can't you see, can't you see_

_What that woman, Lord, she been doin' to me_

* * *

_**One Week Later**_

_**Pierre Part, Louisiana—Day**_

Garth was something else, though. My overall analysis of this guy wasn't good, but it wasn't bad either. He was dolt and I wasn't surprised he hadn't been killed yet due to several mistakes we've already encountered so far. Other than several rookie mistakes, he was a sweetheart; a complete dumbass at times, but nonetheless, a sweetheart. Had a big addiction to sweet things, got drunk _super_ easy…and he liked hugs.

With a sigh, I took a sip of coffee before pulling out a shrimp Po'Boy from a bag beside me. It smelled downright sinful, and they were worth the ten bucks. I held the sandwich away from my mouth just a hair, "Garth, how in the name of all that is holy, are you lost?" I bit out, sitting in the front seat of my car.

"_Well, you know how windy these roads are, Abby-girl_." Came his lighthearted reply. I ignored the usage of one of my prohibited nicknames, "_The tip we got said to come down this road about ten miles…These werewolves_—"

"_Loup-garou_, Garth." I corrected lying the Po'Boy down in my lap, "Like a werewolf, but not one. They're closer to a shapeshifter."

"_Right, right. Of course_," Garth replied. I reached over to pick up my cup of coffee and took a sip, "_These_ _Loup-garou_'_s are tricky little things_…_you seem know a lot about different kind of lore._"

"Learned from some of the best." I mused, peeling out a piece of onion and chewed on it thoughtfully before swallowing it down with the last bit of coffee.

"_So, what exactly do they derive from? Lore wise._" He asked.

I furrowed my brows in agitation, "Garth, I thought you knew about _Loup-garou_'s."

"_I said I knew _some_ about them_."

I groaned inwardly leaning forward so that I could wrap my arm around the back of the steering wheel, "How are you alive, Garth? Seriously." I shook my head at him even though he couldn't see me, "_Loup-garou_ is simply a subspecies of werewolves; they're closer to shapeshifters really. The only thing you need to know about 'em is that silver kills 'em—bullets, necklace, bracelet—whatever your heart desires to gank 'em." I paused for a moment, "You did say this was a _loup-garou_ right?"

"_Right_," Garth replied, "_All the vic's died of loss of blood and their throats were torn out_—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait, _blood loss_ and their throats were ripped out?" I cut in. I sat back in my seat, bringing my hand to my forehead, "Dear lord, Garth." I sighed. Werewolves or _loup-garou_ weren't making sense. The lunar cycle wasn't right meaning there wasn't a werewolf problem. If that was the case, then the victim's would be missing their hearts—essentially that's their favorite treat. "That kind of shit is associated with Vamps, Garth."

"_What do you want me to do then?_" He asked, voice getting a little high in apprehension.

"Just sit tight." I said firmly, "I'm headin' down to the motel and gettin' some more things from my room, if this _is_ vamp_,_ then we need to be careful." I scrubbed at my face in exhaustion, "In fact, find you a place to park until I can meet up with you. I'll bring an extra machete."

"_Gotcha._" He said, "_And, Abby?"_

"Yeah." I deadpanned, scrubbing my face in exhaustion.

"_I'm sorry._"

I paused my hand down on my mouth, knitting my brows in confusion, "About what?" I asked, pulling my hand away.

A pause. "_Whatever you're running from, I'm sorry it happened to you. If it helps, I think you're a good person and one of the nicest people I know."_ I stared at the building in front of me, silent, "_You know, if you ever want to talk about it…I'm always here._" I bit my lip, feeling that sharp stab in my chest.

"I know…Just give me thirty minutes to an hour." I said, then hung up my phone. Inhaling, I shook my head slowly, "I'm sorry about it too, Garth. You just don't know." Applying my foot on the clutch, I started the engine before dropping it into first gear. Pulling out, I shifted, going into second, then third as I came onto the main street. It didn't take but a few minutes to get back to the motel I was staying at—_Bayou Belle Inn_. I took a few minutes to look over into my seat at the bag of food I had. I hadn't eaten (or slept) in a day or so due to researching for a monster that we weren't even hunting for.

Cutting the engine, I shook my head once again, "Rookies…" I muttered, reaching over to pick up my sandwich, and took a bite winding up with grease running down my chin, "Shit." I muttered, chewing the still-hot sandwich as I fumbled around in the bag for a napkin. There was none, "Really?" Swallowing, I sighed out again, wiping the grease off my chin and wiped my hand down on my jeans as a makeshift napkin, "My friggin' luck."

I managed to scarf down the Po'Boy without as much as a second to savor its taste. Crumpling up the paper bag, I swept up the crumbs, placing them into the plastic bag I had for garbage. Taking it and my empty coffee cup, I got out of my car, tossing the trash into a nearby garbage can as I crossed the parking lot to my motel room. I dug in my pockets for the key, only to falter at the door, seeing that it was open slightly. I sensed someone was in there patiently waiting. Slowly, I reached behind me to draw my gun out before pushing the door open. I warily entered, seeing that one of the far table lamps were turned on.

I licked my bottom lip, sweeping the tip of my tongue over it before capturing it between my teeth for a second. Becoming aware of everything around me, I looked over to my bed, frozen in my tracks. My heart clenched painfully upon meeting a pair of impeccable hazel eyes staring back at me, and there sitting at the edge of my bed was Dean.

"Dean?" He was hunched over with hands clasped under his chin; in all honesty, he looked a mess. His usual clean-shaven face was covered in twice the stubble since the last time I had saw him, his hair was disheveled, and he looked like he had been void of sleep. Upon hearing his name coming off my lips, a wave of guilt and pain washed over me like a tsunami.

"Hey, Abs." His voice was light as he tested out my nickname. Rising to his feet, he ran his hands down the leg of his jeans, "Just thought I'd drop by; see how you were doing. We were passing through." He tried to sound casual, as if my absence hadn't been affecting him. The corners of his mouth tipped up into his trademark half-smile.

I folded my arm across my chest, narrowing my eyes at him, "What the hell are you doin' here, Dean? I thought—"

"Yeah, yeah. I know," He cut in, "Don't come lookin' for you. Lose your number." I looked around the room quickly, then to the door, "Sam's not here." Dean answered, causing me to look back to him, "He thinks I'm at some strip-club." He waved his hand dismissively as he spoke, moving around the room, "Nice room, by the way, like what you've done with the place." I arched a brow at him, taking note of all the research tacked up on the walls.

I rolled my eyes at him, licking my bottom lip once again. "Dean… why are you here?" My voice had steeled over, "In this town, to be more precise." I shook my head trying to wrap this around it, "I mean, one doesn't simply _pass through_ Pierre Part, Louisana."

Halting at my open duffel, he reached out to pick up a picture I kept. It was in a frame that was beginning to pull apart in one of the corners and the glass split down the middle, coincidentally, between us. He stared at it for a long time, pain evident in his eyes, "I came to talk." He admitted, receiving a condescending scoff from me as he set the frame back down.

"That ship had long since sailed." I deadpanned, "If you don't mind, show yourself out the door. I'm busy."

"A nest of vamps just up the road thirty minutes or so—or the _loup-garou_'s the guy you're with thought?" He questioned, "Kid wouldn't know how to drive stick up a frog's ass if he tried. I'm surprised he's even alive, judging by how he's hunting—"

I furrowed my brows at him, "Wait…you're the one who tipped Garth off? You-you knew where I've been?" Dean wordlessly nodded his head in response. I shook my head, rubbing my face roughly at the realization, "Son of a bitch…"

"You should really get rid of your phone if you don't want to be found next time." He suggested. I threw him a glare, earning a shrug from him in response. "Might as well sit down and talk, we've got time."

"I'd rather stand, _thanks_." Dean's hand rose in surrender, knowing not to push himself. "What do you want to talk about?" He moved across the room over to the mini refrigerator where he pulled out two beers, closing the door to the fridge with his boot as he opened the bottles with ease.

"The guy you're with."

"Garth, yeah. What about 'im?" I asked.

He was quiet for a second, "You're not-?"

I scrunched my face at him, "Oh, God, no. Strictly business. Garth's a sweetheart, but no." I shook my head at him, not quite believing that I was even having this conversation, "Is this what you're wantin' to talk about?" I asked, incredulously.

Dean shook his head, "No…I just—you know." His shoulders hefted into a shrug, "I, uh, wanted to talk about us." He replied, offering one of the beers he had in his hands. I stared at it like he had poisoned it, "Jesus, Abs. You should know me better than that." I pressed my lips together at him taking the one he had in his hand, "Abs, we're a family. We have a daughter together."

I shook my head slowly, "Dean…there is no _us_. Dad was right—"

"I don't give a damn what Dad said, alright? He's gone, it doesn't matter what he's said." Dean said curtly, brushing past me to sit back down on the bed. I shut my eyes when I caught a whiff of his old cologne as it flooded my senses, memories of that scent flooding back in relentlessly, "Abs, I want us to be a family again. We deserve this; _Megan_ deserves it."

I ran my finger around the opening of the bottle, "I know she does, Dean…but," I averted my eyes to the ground, "You and I don't deserve to be miserable, and that's what we are; _miserable_."

Dean shook his head slowly, "I can make it up to you, Abs. I swear I can. We can't be over—not like this. We've put too much time, too much blood and sweat to just—roll over and die and give up."

"We were over the day Dad died—"

"No." He said firmly, cutting me off, "Don't you say that." Dean's lips quivered as his brows drew together. Tears were glistening in his eyes, "Don't you dare say that."

"You were the one who started to push me away." I pointed out, lifting my hands up in my defense, "_You_ didn't want to talk…didn't want to tell me a damn thing about what happened." I tapped my chest roughly, tears threatening to well up in my eyes, "Dean, I needed you to talk to me."

Dean cast his eyes to the carpet between his boots, "I _know_ I'm the one that did that. Abigail, I made a bad call, alright?" He confessed, looking back up to me with pleading eyes, "I'm was a jackass. I fucked up; that's what I do!"

"It's better off this way, Dean." I said softly, "We can't be hunters and do our job right without worryin' about each other—it's how we end up six feet under, and we can't chance that."

"So what? We just go on and act like we never spent the better half of seven or eight years together?"

I closed my eyes, "Yeah." It was dead silent. Dean inhaled deeply a few times through his nose. He was hurting tremendously, so was I.

"What about Megan?" He finally managed to whisper.

I opened my eyes, lashes becoming matted together with tears as I met with his imploring gaze, "We do what's best for her. We stay in contact—"

"Thought you said for me to lose your number?" I narrowed my eyes at him, becoming overly exhausted.

"I know what I said." I replied, "We stay in contact, then whenever it conveniences you to see her. Let me know." Dean's face skewed in a look of repudiation.

"Convenience?" He asked, "_Convenience?_" then he scoffed, "You think I _want_ to be away from you and our daughter? I don't want weekends or summers or part of the damn time, Abigail—" I yawned deeply, not hearing half of what he said, shaking my head slowly. Everything about me started to feel sluggish.

"Why are you jealous of Sam?" I asked suddenly.

Dean held his beer up to his lips, pausing at my question, "What?"

"Why are you jealous of Sam?"

I watched his lips curl into a cynical smile, "I'm not jealous of my brother."

"Apparently you are." I said pointedly, "On several occasions, including the last time, you-you always…" My words faltered, making me realize that something was wrong, and I looked down at the now empty beer bottle before gazing up at Dean, betrayed. "You son of a—"

Dean caught me as I stumbled over to the side. Everything about him was intoxicating. To be able to feel myself in his arms, I found it harder to stay awake. "You can hate me later, Abs, but Sammy and I need you."

"Bitch…" I actually became overwhelmingly scared about falling asleep. Dean just didn't know. Unconsciousness held me in a tight grip as I finally gave in. Hazel eyes was the only thing I saw before blacking out.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Highway—Night**_

"I can't believe that you went all the way to Louisiana to kidnap, Abigail, and _drug_ her!" Sam disconcerted, throwing another alarmed glance to the backseat, "What the hell where you thinking, Dean?"

I threw him a rather calm look before focusing back on the road ahead. We were barreling down a dark two-lane backdrop with the radio on. The announcer's voice came on after Joe Walsh's _Life's Been Good_ went off, "_Rockin' Nebraska. Your source for the classics, all night long._"

"I was thinkin' that you and I need her here with us than being apart, or have you forgotten about the hit that is still potentially on her head?" I replied. Sam fell silent, obviously remembering. In the light from the dash, I glanced down at my watch seeing that it was fifteen till three in the morning, then sighed, changing the subject back to Sam's freak out, "Why don't we just chill out, think about this?"

Sam knew what I meant, leaning forward to turn off the radio, "What's there to think about?" His eyes were narrowed.

"I just don't know if going to the Roadhouse is the smartest idea," I said.

"Dean, it's another premonition. I know it." Sam prompted, "This is gonna happen, and Ash can tell us where."

"Yeah, man, but..." I gestured my head to Abigail's comatose form hesitantly with Sam's eyes following back to her.

He then pulled his infamous bitchface, "Dude, you brought that on yourself. When she wakes up, she's gonna kick the _both_ of our asses."

"I know! I know." I bit out, "Somethin' tells me that Abs can help."

"So you go and kidnap her." Sam said flatly.

I frowned at his word choice, "Jesus, you're making me sound like some creepy stalker with the word _kidnap_." I snorted, "I didn't _kidnap_, Abs. I just simply…borrowed her."

"Borrow?" Sam prompted with his bitchface in action, "Oh. So now Abigail's an object."

I threw up my hands out of exasperation, "Dude!"

Sam threw another glance over his shoulder, "What're we gonna do when she does wake up?"

"Aside from putting our heads between our legs and kissing our asses' goodbye? Hope for the best that she understands." I glanced into the rearview mirror. _She hadn't moved a muscle since I even got her in Pierre Part_. Abigail had changed her hair color, well, reverted it back to a deep chocolate brown—her natural hair color—in an attempt to stay under the radar. Back at the motel room I had taken notice that she looked exhausted and even distressed. I wanted to know why.

Back in the seat, I noticed her eyelids fluttering rapidly with the slightest twitch of her mouth. It was pulled into a deep, set frown when her face suddenly twisted. I decelerated upon seeing it, knowing whatever she was dreaming about _had_ to be unpleasant. Taking a deep breath, I focused back on the road just as I picked up Sam add something, "Plus it could have some connection with the demon. My visions always do, and you and I both know that Abigail has seen them by touching me."

"That's my point. There's gonna be hunters there." I stated, referring back to heading to the Roadhouse, "I don't know if-if going in and announcing that you're both some supernatural freaks with a-a demonic connection is the best thing, okay?"

Sam blinked a few times, incredulous, "So, we're freaks now?"

I chuckled, slapping Sam on the thigh, "You and Abs have always been freaks." Gunning the engine, Abigail suddenly jerked awake with shout, undoubtedly scaring the shit out of Sam and me. I stomped on the brake, hard enough for the tires to screech out. Sam twisted around in his seat, alarmed. So did I.

Abigail was sitting up, arms splayed out in front of her to prevent herself from being slung forward and she was breathing hard. Her eyes were wide and wild with fright, taking a moment to regain her composure when she realized where she was at. Her eyes fell on Sam and then me, narrowing into a murderous glare, "What the _fuck_, guys?!"

Sam and I grimaced, "Well, good morning to you too, sunshine." I greeted her flatly, taking my foot off the brake and placed it back onto the gas pedal, the Impala smoothly rolling forward.

"What, the—_why_ the hell am I here?" She demanded.

Sam glanced over to me before looking back to Abigail, "We, uh, needed you…"

I rolled my eyes at Sam, motioning my head to him, "Francis here had another premonition and we're heading back to the Roadhouse." I elaborated, seeing Abigail turn her eyes to Sam. They softened a tad bit upon hearing that, though retained a hardened expression.

"You coulda called." She stated.

I threw her a look, "If I'da called, would you've answered it?"

She narrowed her eyes at me, "I wasn't talkin' to you."

I rolled my eyes at her, "Of course you weren't_._" I muttered, catching Sam glance at me quizzically.

"Abigail, it-it's nothing." Sam said quickly, looking back at her, "I'm—"

"Nothing?"I cut him off, "Dude, you about fell over back at the gas station. Don't say it wasn't _nothing_." Sam set his eyes on me, glaring.

From the back, Abigail's brows furrowed in concern, "What about?"

"It's a long story." Sam muttered, obviously trying to curb the questions.

She rolled her eyes at him knowingly, "Apparently we have nothin' _but_ time."

Sam relented, telling her about his premonition, elaborating what he saw. Through the rearview mirror, I saw her face blanch slightly, then run a hand down it. Her knuckles were bruised and swollen like she had been in a fight previously, nails painted as black as the night. Judging by the way she woke up, she had been having nightmares again. I pursed my lips, focusing on the shadow of night. _It seemed like those nightmares are only happening around the same time Sam is having his premonitions now that I think about it._

"Would it sound crazy if I said that the nightmares were startin' back up?" She confessed, earning a bewildered look from Sam, "Same thing…been havin' it this whole week."

I frowned, "You didn't bother calling us and giving us a head's up?"

Abigail's jaw set, "What part of under the radar didn't you get?"

I smirked, "You weren't too far under the radar if I could find you." Her face skewed into a sour look, only for me grin smugly as she raised a hand bringing down all but one finger, "Any time, any place sweet cheeks."

"Go to hell, Dean."

"You first." I quipped.

She scoffed, "Where's my car?"

"I don't know." I replied. Sam's head snapped towards me with a firm gaze. I merely shrugged, practically _feeling_ Abigail's eyes boring holes into the back of my head. At the intensity of it, it was a wonder my head didn't catch on fire.

"Dean Matthew _Winchester_." I heard her growl out, causing me to skew my face into a sour look.

"You are so _not_ using my middle name." I said, incredulous.

"Oh, I am. _Where_. Is. My car?" She growled out, "So help me if someone's jacked my car, breathin' is gonna be the last thing you ever do."

"Jeez, Bobby's on his way down to Louisiana to get it with his wrecker!" I replied, annoyed, "It'll be up at his place once we figure out what's going on with your all's heads."

Sam shook his head at us in agitation, "Thirty minutes and you two are ready to rip each other's heads off." I threw him an exasperated glare telling him to shut up. Upon seeing the corner of his mouth tugging up into a smirk, I could literally feel my blood pressure rise.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Roadhouse—Night**_

It took Dean approximately an hour to get to the Roadhouse. I had taken the time in between to call Garth back. Whilst speaking with him, I could feel the jealousy roll of Dean. I explained to him that we had been played as fools for taking the job, that the tip wasn't even real. I would glare up at Dean occasionally after explaining why my car was left behind. I didn't get into details, only told him that something came up, apologized and got off my cellphone.

Dean pulled into the parking lot in front of the Roadhouse as I shoved my cellphone into my pocket, taking notice of the activity surrounding the quaint little bar. There were numerous trucks and bikes parked, some people hanging around outside smoking, and some getting in their rides before backing out. Getting out of the car, the three of us made our way into the establishment, passing two men at a table cleaning weapons. From beside Dean, I caught his uneasy glance, keeping Sam and I nearby.

Grabbing Sam by the arm, we stopped when Jo crossed in front of us. Dean, however, almost ran into her, who stopped upon seeing him and smiled coyly at him, "Just can't stay away, huh?"

"Yeah, looks like. How you doin', Jo?" He asked.

She opened her mouth to say something, only for Sam to cut in, "Where's Ash?"

Confused, she motioned to the back, "In his back room." He brushed past her in a hurry, earning another bewildered look from Jo, as she turned back to Dean, "And I'm fine..." She said, keeping her eyes on Dean. Out of everyone in the establishment, I sense Jo's resentment towards me and affection towards Dean. I felt a flurry of jealousy reside in my stomach that I recognized as my own, which made me uncomfortable. I had the urge to punch her for even looking at him like he was a piece of meat, so I took a few, good deep breaths to calm myself down. _We're not together, why does it matter?_

"Sorry, he's—we're... kind of on a bit of a timetable." Dean apologized quickly, as we made our way around her to the back where Sam went. He appeared uncomfortable under her stares, it seemed. Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed her glaring at me out of spite. I shrugged back at her, which only seemed to strengthen her glares. I smirked to myself, sensing I had the upper hand of this quarrel, which earned a questioning look from Dean. I shrugged at him as we found Sam standing at a rough wooden door with a sign hanging on it that read, _Dr. Badass is: IN_. None of us needed to ask what he was watching, it was pretty clear of what it was through the sounds from behind the door.

He reached out, knocking, "Ash? Hey, Ash?"

I reached out to knock on the door, "Hey, uh, Dr. Badass?" Upon my query, the door was quickly unlatched and opened a crack to reveal Ash, buck naked. Dean and I averted our eyes, clearing our throats. Ash was comfortable with his body, in which, I could've went my whole life _not_ seeing. Ash's eyes raked over me before moving to Sam and Dean.

"Sam? Dean? Abigail?" He sniffed loudly after we nodded, "Sam, Dean and Abigail—" Ash's mouth tipped up into a smile, "The three musketeers." _Not quite, Ash_.

Sam smiled, uncomfortable at Ash's nudeness, "Hey Ash. Um. We need your help."

"Well, hell then." He stated giving us another once over, "Guess I need my pants." He shut the door quickly. We stood outside the door for a second before I shook my head.

"I coulda went my whole life without seein' that." I muttered to Dean.

"You're tellin' me." He agreed. The three of us turned and walked back into the bar where I broke away from them; keeping within sight for Dean's sake. I took a seat on the stool where Ellen came up with a smile.

"Hey, baby girl." She greeted me.

"Hey, Ellen." I replied, smiling weakly, "You got anythin' strong?"

"Sure do. What's the occasion?" She asked. I shrugged.

"Don't really need one," I mused, trying to keep things simple. From the corner of my eye I could see Dean glancing my way out of habit. Ellen caught our glances, instinctively reaching for two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

Setting them down in front of me, she poured the two glasses full, "Seems like you do." I arched my brow at her, then sighed. Picking the glass of whiskey up, I downed it with a grimace.

"Yeah…" I muttered, laying out fifty, "I'm just gonna drink that bottle." Ellen pushed it back to me, shaking her head.

"On the house." Ellen reached out, picking up her shot of whiskey and down it, "Something tells me that you and Dean are having problems."

"Seems like everyone knows our problems, El." I said, picking up the bottle and filled the glass again, hearing her chuckle. I downed it again, setting it on the bar, "Me and Dean went our separate ways 'bout a week ago…we just weren't gettin' along. Made ourselves miserable." Ellen nodded me to continue as she made another drink for a patron, "Needless to say, the lack of communication was our downfall—"

"Not to mention yours and his bullheadedness." Ellen added. I nodded in agreement, filling up our shot glasses.

"Can't argue with that," I picked up the glass of liquor, downing it. I grimaced with a shiver before I sighed heavily, "Dean wouldn't talk to me about what happened while I was in a coma for the longest time." Ellen paused, looking at me confused.

"Why would he do that?" she asked.

I shrugged, "Thinks I'm strung out or somethin'." The tip of my nose began to tingle after my fourth shot, "Might kill me." I shook my head as I repeated his words that came out of Gordon's mouth, "So, I got tired of his excuses and—" I worked my jaw oddly, peering down to the wooden bar while I ran my finger along the rim of my shot glass, "I pretended to drown to get it out of him." Guilt was eating at me for doing that, but it wasn't until I felt a flurry of disappointment bubble up from Ellen. She knew.

"You're a bright girl. A smart one, and a good mother to your baby." She began. I frowned, knowing where this conversation was going, "Abigail, you and those two boys over there have been through a lot." Ever so slightly, I turned my head to get a glimpse at Sam and Dean. Ash had finally showed up, and was wearing clothes, "I've seen a lot of things and I've heard a lot of things in this bar. From experience, don't let your baby girl grow up without her daddy in the picture. Dean's got a good heart, he just doesn't see it that way." I hummed in agreement. That I did know.

"I suppose you already know about me cuttin' out and runnin'?"

She nodded, "I do." I nodded slowly, "I know that Dean was beating himself up what time they were here." My eyes left the wood grain I had been focused on, "He asked Ash to locate you. It was their secret." I swallowed hard at that news, "I take it he found you?"

"Yeah." I muttered, "Yesterday, to be exact." I sensed surprise from her, and furrowed my brows at her expression, "What?"

"It's just…Dean's known for the past four days. I'm trying to figure out what's took him so long."

"It's hard tellin'." I said, pouring my fifth shot, "The day we ended things…I let somethin' bad slip out…somethin' I should've never told 'im." I downed the shot after a second of fighting it down, "We were fightin' and Dean told me to run back to Sam," I waved my hand sluggishly, "I think he's jealous of 'im or somethin', I dunno. But-but, I told 'im that I would and give our kid a reason to call Sam 'Dad'." I hung my head, aware of what I had just told Ellen disappointed her further. I didn't want to see the look in her eyes—I'd seen a lot of disappointed looks in my time, "I'm a bitch, El. A self-centered, stupid, and heartless _bitch_."

"Why would you say somethin' like that to the boy?" I heard her ask. I shrugged, keeping a firm expression of shame on my face.

I swiped away a few tears that had escaped, "I don't even know why he's wantin' to get back with me—he deserves someone better...Megan deserves better." I caught Jo crossing through the room, moving from table to table, "Someone like Jo."

I felt Ellen's hand take away the empty shot glass and bottle, "Honey, I think you've had enough liquor." Setting them out of reach, she went and got a glass of water, setting it in front of me, "Drink it if you can—it'll clear ya up." I nodded slowly, taking the glass of water in front of me; only to hold it, "Sayin' something like that hurts a man more than any ordinary wound. Don't use your child as a weapon. As your friend, Abigail, I don't want to hear of you saying _anything_ like that again."

"Yes, ma'am." I muttered. Ellen took my hand in hers in a comforting manner.

"You two need each other more than what you think. You two are gonna argue—that's a given in any relationship, and you're gonna break each other's hearts from time to time, sometimes without knowing it. Dean loves you, Abigail, and it was clear when he walked in here a few days ago." Her eyes went to Sam, Dean, and Ash working together on his laptop with a sketch in front of them. Dean was standing behind his brother, watching them, "Whether you know it or not, but your mom would do the same thing you're doing."

I frowned, "Really?"

Ellen nodded with a smile gracing her lips, "Hell, yeah. She'd come in like a tornado that swept up half of Kansas. Her and Steven would've been in a fight earlier, then she'd sit here until she was crying. After you and the twins were born, she calmed down quite a bit." Her smile faltered into one of sad reminiscence, "There was nothing in the world she loved more than Steven and her kids—the three of you. Never got to meet the baby."

"Alyssa?" I asked. When she nodded, I smiled sadly, "She was somethin' else. Her smile could light up the room, and she had this puppy dog look that'd make anyone give into her—kinda like Sam." There was a bit of silence between us, "Dean isn't gonna forgive me for what I said…"

"He will." She assured, "It'll take some time, but he will. He cares about you and your all's baby too much." I nodded, taking everything into consideration. I found myself staring at Dean's backside longer than what I intended as I thought to myself. Jo had been at a nearby table, two or three away from where the boys were at, seeming subtle about her eavesdropping.

Turning back to Ellen, I nodded again, "Thank you, Ellen…for everythin', you know?"

She smiled before walking away, "Anytime."

I drank down the rest of my water, seeing that Dean had broken away from Ash and Sam as he made his way to the bar sitting beside me, silent. "Hittin' it kinda hard, aren't ya?"

I turned my head at him, "I stopped at five."

"More like had to be stopped," He mused dryly.

"Find anythin'?" I asked, fighting to keep myself from having a slight slur.

"Found the sign that Sam drew out belongs to a bus line in Guthrie, Oklahoma." Dean replied, nodding in thanks to Ellen who set a beer in front of him, "Other than that, nothing. Told us he'd find something in fifteen minutes, then we can figure out where to go from there."

Dipping my head in an understanding nod, Dean and I sat in silence. I ran my finger along the rim of my empty glass, fighting with myself to try and find the right words to even start a conversation. "So, uh, listen…" I said lightly. Dean looked over at me expectantly until the opening chords to _Can't Fight This Feeling_ began to play from the jukebox, therefore cutting me off.

_I can't fight this feeling any longer…And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow…What started out as friendship…Has grown stronger…I only wish I had the strength to let it show. _With horrified looks, we glanced to each other then over to Jo, who was carrying a tray to the bar, and set it down.

_I tell myself that I can't hold out forever…I said there is no reason for my fear…Cause I feel so secure when we're together…You give my life direction…You make everything so clear..._

Jo saw us staring, and smiled innocently to Dean, "What?"

"REO Speedwagon?" Dean deadpanned.

"Damn right REO." She replied with a coy smile, giving her chest a good tap, "Kevin Cronin sings it from the heart."

I snorted, "He sings it from the _hair_." Her eyes went to me, letting the coyness of her smile falter, "There's a difference." Dean looked smug at my response as he took a sip of his beer, nodding in agreement.

"That profile you've got Ash looking for?" Jo paused, sending a glance over to Ellen, who was over at the other end of the bar. Dean hummed in response. "Your mom died the same way, didn't she? A fire in Sam's nursery?"

Dean tensed as she talked, "Look, Jo, it's kind of a family thing."

"I could help." Jo insisted. I understood the gesture was overall sincere, with a hint of jealousy coming from me, and a bit of cynicism towards me from Jo, but the way she was acting—it went plum through me.

I started to drum my fingertips against the bar, slowly at first, "I'm sure you could." Dean and Jo looked to me, "But we've got to handle this one ourselves." Jo's eyes narrowed at me.

"She's right," Dean added. Jo looked back to Dean a little hurt, "Besides, if we ran off with you, I think your mother might kill us." As if she heard us talking, Ellen looked up from cleaning glasses, to which he smiled nervously. Jo stared at us with a raised brow.

"You're afraid of my mother?" She prompted.

"I think so." He answered for the both of us. Around that time, Sam came hurrying up behind Jo; the expression on his face told me everything I needed to know.

"We have a match. We've gotta go." Sam said, urgently.

Dean glanced over to me, nodding, "Alright."

I gave Jo a smile, "See you later, Jo. It's always nice chattin' with you." She gave me a hard look as Dean and I stood up, following behind Sam. Passing Ellen, she gave me a look and jerked her chin in Dean's direction. I splayed my hands out with an exasperated look, before having to walk out the door.

Sam was already in the Impala as I approached it with Dean waiting nearby. Passing him to get to the driver's side rear door, his hand shot out to stop me by grabbing my elbow. I halted, staring at him curiously, "Back in there," he said lowly, "You were about to say something…" His eyes searched my face for some sign of a giveaway, "What was it?"

"Guys!" Sam called out, earning an irritated look from Dean.

I bit my lip, "It's uh, it-it can wait, Dean…Sam's about to have a coronary as it is." He sighed, nodding his head. Letting loose of my arm, he relented and got in leaving me out of the car for a split second. I shook my head, mad at myself for that sorry excuse. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" I hissed out under my breath, getting in the back. Taking my place in the backseat, I felt Dean's eyes stay on me, wondering what I had to say to him.

* * *

Thirty minutes down the road, Dean was singing strains from _Can't Fight This Feeling,_ a-capella.

"_And even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight…You're a candle in the window on a cold dark winter night…And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might..._" Dean stopped once he saw Sam sitting beside him with an annoyed expression on his face.

"You're kidding, right?" He asked with an arched brow.

Dean shrugged, "I heard the song somewhere, I can't get it out of my head, I don't know, man." He sighed, "Whaddya got?"

Sam rifled through a stack of papers while I held a flashlight over him to look through them, "Andrew Gallagher. Born in eighty three—like me. Lost his mother in a nursery fire exactly six months later—also like me."

I furrowed my brows at the connection, "You think the demon killed his mom?"

Sam glanced up at me with a grim nod, "Sure looks like it."

"How did you even know to look for this guy?" Dean asked.

"Every premonition I've had, if they're not about the demon they're about the other kids the demon visited. Like Max Miller, remember him?"

Dean shifted in his seat, the edges of his ears turned red from what I caught from just peeking at him. _He remembered Max, alright._ "Yeah," he muttered, "but Max Miller was a pasty little psycho that tried to kill Abs and our kid."

Sam fell silent, remembering that unfortunate event as well before blowing out a breath, "The point is he was killing people. And I was having the same type of visions about him. And now it could be happening all over again with this Gallagher guy." Sam glanced up at me with hope in his eyes, "Is that what your nightmares were about too?"

This time Dean tore his gaze from the road with a concerned look in his eyes. I hesitated, meeting their expectant looks, remembering what Dean told me that same night Max tried to kill me. _From now on, if you have another one of those, you tell me or Sam as soon as you get up. We won't let that sonofabitch near you or our child. Not now, not ever. Got me?_ "Yeah, somethin' like that."

Dean nodded, "So, how do we find him?"

I shrugged, glancing down at the papers from over Sam's shoulder, "Don't know. No current address, no current employment. He still owes money on all his bills - phone, credit, utilities..."

"Collection agency flags?" He asked.

Sam shook his head, "None in the system."

"They just let him take a walk?" Dean asked again, frowning. I shrugged, totally understanding the confusion he was feeling. Nothing was sounding right.

"Seems like it. There's a work address from his last W-2, about a year ago." I pointed out, earning a nod from Sam.

"Right. We should start there." He said, looking over to Dean, who nodded in agreement.

* * *

_**Coffee Shop—Day**_

I shifted in my outrageously baggy work pants that belonged to a pant-suit Kara had bought me. It wasn't that it was baggy on the waist. It fit me perfectly, but it was just baggy all around, and it covered my feet when I sat down. Even in heels, they were still covering my feet by a hair. With pursed, ruby red lips, I tugged the legs of them up over my knees from under the table, pushing away a stand of my brown hair out of my face. Wearing a cream colored top and the matching blazer to the pants, I felt overdressed—even if we were posing for lawyers.

From beside me, Dean watched me shift around in amusement as our waitress poured coffee into our cups, "You won't get anything out of Andy, guys." She said, "I'm sorry, but they never do."

"_They_?" I prompted, curious.

Our waitress, Tracy, nodded, "You're debt collectors, right? Once in a while they come by. I don't know what Andy says to them, but they never come back."

"Actually we're-we're lawyers." Dean corrected her, "Representing his Great Aunt Leta. She passed, God rest her soul, and left Andy a sizable estate."

Sam nodded, falling into step with Dean's tale, "Yeah. So are you a friend of his?" I folded my hands together on my lap, observing her quietly.

"I used to be, yeah. I don't see much of Andy anymore." She said sadly. _Truth_.

"Andy?" A red haired bus boy asked with a grin, "Andy kicks ass, man."

I shared a smirk with Dean, "Is that right?"

He nodded, "Yeah. Andy can get you into anything. He even got me backstage at Aerosmith once, it was beautiful, bro." A smile graced my lips.

"It must've been magical." I said, earning a 'Damn, right it was' from the bus boy. He certainly had no problem chatting people up like old friends, however, something about him felt off. I felt borderline uncomfortable with the way he was chatting nonstop, placing a hand on my shoulder or arm, which caused me to shift slightly in my seat. My eyes fell on Dean, who had been staring, and apparently had a little green monster at his side. With a raised brow at him, he glanced to the bus boy quickly, then glanced back realizing that he'd been caught.

Tracy gave him a pointed look, "How about bussing a table or two, Weber?

Weber saluted her, "Yeah. You bet, boss." As Weber left the table, Dean seemed to relax, shooting daggers at the boy whenever no one was looking.

"Look, if you want to find him, try Orchard Street. Just look for a van with a barbarian queen painted on the side." She told us. That seemed to have perked him up.

"Barbarian queen?" Dean asked, amused. _Oh, this was just too good._

Tracy nodded, "She's riding a polar bear. It's kind of hard to miss."

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Orchard Street—Day**_

It had been about an hour since leaving the coffee shop in hopes of finding the aforementioned van—the badass van with a barbarian queen. Just like the waitress back at the coffee shop said, the van was there on Orchard Street. It was a glorious sight to see. I glanced down into the side mirror, reaching out to move it into the backseat. Abigail was sound asleep in the backseat with those pants of hers rolled up past her knees, her matching blazer at her feet, and arms folded across her chest. Despite the fact that Spinal Tap was blaring over the radio, she didn't budge. She was usually the first one to set in singing _Stonehenge_.

_Focus, stupid_. I shifted in my seat, looking ahead for the van, "I'm sorry, I'm starting to like this dude. That van is sweet." I glanced over to Sam, seeing him in one of his moods, "What's wrong?"

Sam shook his head, "Nothing."

"Sam, you look like you're sucking on a lemon, what's going on?" I asked.

"This Andrew Gallagher, he's the second guy like this we've found, Dean." He said lightly, obviously troubled, "Demon came to them when they were kids, now they're killing people."

I suppose he was right about that. The odds weren't exactly in our favor so far, but for my brother's and Abigail's sake, they needed to be. "We don't know what Andrew Gallagher is, alright? He could be innocent." I tried to hide the sound of denial in my voice, hoping that Sam would overlook it.

"My visions haven't been wrong yet; Abigail's too." Sam said firmly.

"What's your point?" I asked.

"My point is, I'm one of them." He replied, "Possibly, Abigail as well."

I shook my head at him, "No, you're not. Neither is she."

"Dean, the demon said he had plans for me and children like me." He continued, "He said that Abigail was getting in his way, that Megan was an abomination. In the way of what, and why?" Sam shook his head in dismay, "Maybe this is his plan, maybe we're all a bunch of psychic freaks, maybe we're all supposed to be —"

"What, killers?" I cut in.

Sam stared at me for a long moment, nodding, "Yeah. And maybe, somehow in some way, Abigail and Megan is the key to stopping all of it. It would explain everything."

"So the demon wants you out there killing with your minds, is that it? And somehow my ex-girlfriend and daughter have a dog in this fight?" I scoffed, "Come on, Sam, give me a break. You're not a murderer! You don't have it in your bones."

"No? Last I checked, I kill all kinds of things." He pointed out.

"Those things were asking for it. There's a difference." I spoke with an air of finality in my words that ended the conversation as I looked back out of the window, away from Sam. My eyes wandered back into the side mirror that I had adjusted just right that viewed the backseat perfectly. Abigail was still asleep despite Sam and I's argument.

"Got him." Sam announced, nodding his head to a man. I glanced out to see the man, Andy Gallagher, leave a house in pair of pajamas and a long, black satin robe with dragons embroidered on it. My eyes went up to a second-story window to an attractive blonde waving to him, who blew her a kiss. _That's not odd at all_, I mused.

Andy turned, greeting a man on the street, who smiled at him and handed Andy his coffee. Further up the street, Andy shook hands with a dark-skinned man.

"That's him. That older guy, that's him, that's the shooter."

I nodded, "Alright, you keep on him, I'll stick with Andy."

"What about Abigail?"

"Don't worry, I got this. Go." I urged him. Sam got out of the car and followed the supposed shooter on foot while I watched Andy get in his van and drove off, me following right behind him. After a couple of blocks, Andy stopped and got out of his van, making his way towards me. I threw a glance to Abigail's sleeping form in the backseat, and tucking my gun into my jacket.

"Hey." He said, cheerfully.

"Hey, hey." I said quickly, tucking everything away as fast as I could with an uncomfortable smile. _Hell of a time to be asleep, Abs._

"This is a cheery ride." He commented, looking over my car appreciatively.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Man, the '67? Impala's best year if you ask me. This is a serious classic." Andy continued. _This kid wasn't so bad. Didn't look like some murderer to me—definitely not like the previous one, Max_.

"Yeah. You know, I just rebuilt her, too." I added.

"Yeah?" Andy asked.

I nodded, "Yeah, can't let a car like this one go."

"Damn straight." Andy commented about the car before looking straight at me, "Hey. Can I have it?"

"Sure, man." I replied without hesitation. I climbed out of the car, smiling, to let Andy in the driver's side.

"Sweet."

"Hop right in there. There ya go." I said, closing the door behind him.

Andy fired up the Impala, "Take it easy."

"Alright." Without another glance, Andy drove off. After he was out of sight, I frowned, blinking several times. I looked around me, confused.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_It was night. I wasn't quite sure where I was at. Looking around me, we were a bridge that lead to a dam; that much I did know. We, meaning Sam, Andy, Tracy, and some other man, were standing off. Sam was on the ground, out cold. I frowned, _Where was Dean?

"_He said I had to wait until the time was—" The man I couldn't see, said, causing my head to snap up._

_"The man with the yellow eyes." He replied, feeling his eyes fall on me. I felt a chill run up and down my spine, "He told me about you—about what you'll do to his plans." There was a smile in his voice, "He said if I exterminate you, I'd get a fine reward."_

_"What're you talking about?" Andy demanded._

_The man turned to Andy with a grin, "He came to me. In my dream. He said I was special. He told me he's got big plans for me." I held my head, suddenly in pain. I didn't know what was going on, barely catching snippets of what the man was saying,"I couldn't-I couldn't let 'em do that, I couldn't let them get away with that. No." He turned as if he had heard something, "I see you!" He called out._

_I stood up quickly, turning to look around when a gunshot rang out, and I fell back onto the concrete, hitting my head against the concrete hard. I heard another series shouts, another gunshot, then silence._

I jerked awake with a shout, then was flung forward, hitting the back of the seat, "Son of a—"

"Who are you?!" An unfamiliar voice yelled out in surprise.

Looking to the front seat, I stared back at an unfamiliar man driving Dean's car, "Who the hell are _you?!_" His face blanched at the murderous tone in my voice, "Get the _fuck_ out!"

"Uh, uh—just calm down, alright?" He said, "Yeah, yeah; calm down. Okay?"

I glared at him, "What the-who the _hell_ are you to tell me to calm down?! Get the fuck outta the damn car before I come up there and calm down will be your last fuckin' words!" There was a pleasing sliver of fear that came from the man up in the driver's seat as he fumbled around, totally bewildered about something. All I knew was there was someone that shouldn't be in this car. After another bout of useless attempts of trying to coax me to calm down, I climbed over the front seat, setting in on delivering a set of punches. There was a series of pained yelps and 'okays' before the door was swung open and slammed, causing me to yelp out in pain.

The son of a bitch had slammed my hand up in the door!

It didn't take a second for me to get the door back opened before I was tearing up the road running after this man in pajamas and a black satin robe with dragons in it, and lemme tell you something. I was seeing red. I had ran up an alley, around two blocks, and down another alley before the shithead got away. Breathing heavily, I stood in the middle of the empty alleyway, sifting through each emotion I was feeling. Surveying around me for signs of that robe and most of all, fear. There were several, and it bombarded me like a twenty pound sledgehammer was hitting my head.

"Next time ain't gonna be so easy," I said loud enough, then muttered out curses when I looked down at my hand. My fingers were already turning black and blue with a couple bleeding pretty heavily. I turned my hand over to see that one of the bands on my rings had split, embedding itself in my middle finger. With another curse, I shook my hand it in an attempt to quell the pounding in them, but only made it worse—just my freaking luck. With a final glare, I admitted defeat and headed back, able to hear Dean and Sam from where I was at halfway down the block.

"Thank god! Oh. I'm sorry, baby. I'll never leave you again." Dean gushed. There was a pause, "Well, at least he left the keys in it."

"Yeah. Real Samaritan, this guy." Sam muttered before pausing, "Where's Abigail?"

"I don't know. You don't think he Obi-Wan'd her too?" I paused, hearing Dean's voice become thick with worry. There was a moment of silence before I felt Dean's heart do summersaults. Sam was undoubtedly worried about the situation, "Son of a _bitch!_ Abs!" I shook my head at them, rounding the corner with one last glance to my bruised and bleeding hand ruefully.

"Dean, there she is!" Sam called out, causing me to look up as they came running to meet me on the other sidewalk, "Abigail, what happened?" I shrugged, casting a glance over my shoulder from where I came from, "Are you okay?"

"Did Andy Obi-Wan you?" Dean questioned before I could speak, "Cause I swear to God I'll rip his lungs out—"

"Guys, will you two calm down?" I said pointedly. They blinked, seeming a bit confused, "Nobody Obi-Wan-Kanobi'd me," Dean and Sam's face became flooded with relief, "I woke up. Sam wasn't in the car, and you weren't in the car." I told them, "Some guy was in there, he tried to 'calm me down'," My shoulders lifted into a nonchalant shrug, "So, I kicked his ass, got my hand slammed in the door, and chased him for two or three blocks before I lost 'im."

Needless to say, the smug look on Dean's face was wiped clean when I mentioned my hand being slammed in the door. Instinctively, his eyes landed on my bleeding hand. I flexed my hand to the best of my ability to ease his troubled looks, "Doesn't even hurt." I said in false reassurance, earning the trademark Dean Winchester bitchface.

"Liar." I rolled my eyes at him as I continued to flex my hand a few times until Dean caught my wrist to look at it.

Sam arched his brow at us, "So, you didn't get affected by him?"

I glanced away from Dean to Sam, shaking my head, "No? Why?"

"'Cause that's how Andy got the car—full-on Jedi mind-tricks." Dean confessed, not all too casual as what he was trying to play off. He was livid, even more so as he turned my hand over to expose my blood covered palm. I had taken off every ring except the one that was embedded. Dean's eyes darkened at the sight, glancing over to the car, "Don't move."

I nodded as he unlocked the trunk and pulled out the first-aid kit. "From what I've seen in the few short minutes he was trying to 'calm me down', he can't work his mojo just by twitchin' his nose." I looked back to the alleyway again causing Dean and Sam to do the same, "He's gotta use verbal commands."

"The doctor had just gotten off his cell phone when he stepped in front of that bus. Andy must have called him or something." Sam said sullenly. I was taken aback by the news, seeing Dean nod in confirmation when I turned my head at him.

"That's not possible," I said, "I was chasin' him up the street for a good five minutes."

Dean nodded, "She's has a point, Sam." Moving to the bonnet, he set the first-aid kit down with the lid opened, taking out a roll of gauze, alcohol, and a handkerchief. He motioned me over to where he was at. Doing so, I held my hand out allowing Dean to clean my hand with the handkerchief.

"Beg your pardon?" Sam asked, looking to the both of us with a deep frown. We frowned back at him.

"I just don't know if he's our guy, Sam." Dean told his brother, looking back down to my hand. His shoulders lifted in a shrug, "I mean, Abigail just laid a beatdown on Andy and chased him for how long?" I winced when he neared my injured finger, throwing me an apologetic look, "Sorry." He muttered.

"Dean, you had O.J. convicted before he got out of his white Bronco and you have doubts about this?"

"Doubts, hell." I huffed out.

Dean glanced over to me before looking back to Sam, "He just doesn't seem like the stone-cold killer type, that's all. You know."

"And O.J. _was_ guilty." I added, earning a grateful look from Dean, and an incredulous one from Sam.

"Thank you!" Dean exclaimed. I felt my mouth curve into a half-smile.

"Either way, how are we going to track this guy down?" Sam finally asked, rolling his eyes at us.

Dean thought for a moment, then glanced to Sam and me with that irresistible smirk of his, "Not a problem, just give me a second though." Sam looked impatient, though considering what Dean was doing, he didn't speak. Gently moving my finger up, Dean's eyes met mine, "I'm gonna be as easy as I can, Abs."

"Just do it." I muttered. He nodded, getting a good grip on the ring with his fingers and pulled the pinched metal outwards. I took a sharp intake of air, "Ohh, motherfucker…" I hissed out in pain. He had to pull on it a couple of times until the band was fully extended before Dean was able to pull it off, dropping it in my hand. I stared at it sadly.

"It was your mom's wasn't it?" Dean asked.

I nodded, "Yeah. You'd think I'd learn to keep 'em off once in a while." His lips were in a line, knowing that it hurt me to have something of my parents destroyed; it hurt him too. A couple of minutes went by as Dean finished cleaning and bandaging my hand with a pleased smile gracing his features. I noticed Sam watching us quietly with a small smile on his face. From what I sensed, he was feeling hopeful; of what?

"Good as new, Abs." He said, messing up my hair, "We'll find you some ice to put on it later on." I nodded as he put everything away. Getting in, Dean drove back to where Andy had left his van a few blocks back. Approaching it from the back, I had to take a moment to admire it's appearance.

"Not exactly an inconspicuous ride." I pointed out, admiring the van's originality. Next to the Impala and my Dad's old ride, this was one of the nicest vehicles I've seen in a while.

Dean pulled out a small crowbar from his jacket, "Let's have a look." Prying the back door open, porn music started to play. The three of us gaped at the van's interior; it was decked out with a disco ball, fur rugs, a tiger painted on the wall, several thick books, and an enormous bong.

"Oh, sweet lord." I breathed out.

"Oh. Oh, come on." Dean sighed out, "This is... this is magnificent, that's what this is." I nodded, instantly feeling a pang of regret that I practically put the fear of God into this kid.

"Not exactly a serial killer's lair, though." I added, seeing him nod. Dean bent further to inspect everything. From my vantage point, Dean's backside was a better sight.

"There's no... clown paintings on the walls, or scissors stuck in victims' photos." Dean pointed out, oblivious to my excessive staring, "I like the tiger."

Sam caught me staring however, raising a brow at me. My face flushed red with embarrassment and I grinned at him sheepishly. He shook his head, moving to the van, "Hegel, Kant, and Wittgenstein?" Sam read off some of the book's authors. I raised my brows at that, "That's some pretty heavy reading, Dean."

Something from within caught my attention. I grinned, reaching out to pick up the enormous bong, "Yeah, and uh, and Moby Dick's bong." I laughed at it, eyeing it really, "I feel pretty shitty for even kickin' this kid's ass." Dean and Sam exchanged a glance, "He'd totally be someone I'd party with back in the day."

Dean pursed his lips, taking the paterfamilias away from me, stuffing it back to its rightful place, "Yeah, party."

I arched my brow at him, "Surely to God, you're not jealous."

Dean straightened up, "I'm not jealous." His eyes glanced away from my persistent staring, before he cleared his throat. He was definitely jealous, had been since we came to town, and a very good indication that he was, was the fact that he had been a total brat. A couple of hours had passed and we found ourselves in a vacant lot.

Sam had switched me places so that he had the backseat to himself to splay out a stack of papers he had been studying for the better part of the day. He had been relentless. Dean was up front eating a microwavable cheeseburger with a dissatisfied look.

"Ugh. You know, one day I'd love to just sit down and eat something I didn't have to microwave at a mini-mart." He grumbled out.

"I cooked every time we were at Bobby's." I said, popping a _Doritos_ chip in my mouth. Dean looked over to me with a half-smile.

"Yeah, you did." He reminisced, "You put this burger to shame by looking at it."

I laughed lightly, "Do I?"

Dean nodded, "You do." He sighed taking a bite of the remaining burger, "I could totally eat some of your fried bacon-wrapped chicken right about now." I rolled my eyes, failing miserably at hiding a grin. Dean noticed it, smiling himself at his accomplishment. Apparently we reached out at the same time to get our bottles of pop, and coincidentally, our fingers brushed. It was kind of thrilling to be honest. Like two shy kids, we glanced at each other, smiling nervously.

I needed to find some way to make it right. _Just apologize_, "Dean, I—"

"What I don't get is the motive." Sam blurted out from the back, interrupting me. _Today is just not my day to apologize_. Dean almost glared at his brother for doing so. "I mean, the doctor was squeaky clean, why would Andy waste him?"

"If it is Andy." We muttered.

"Guys, enough." Sam chided.

Dean twisted in his seat, "What?"

"The doctor was mind-controlled in front of a bus. Andy just happens to have the power of mind control. You do the math."

"I just don't think the guy's got it in him, that's all." Dean said.

"How the hell would you know?" Sam challenged, "I mean, why are you bending over backwards defending him?"

Dean's eyes narrowed at him, "'Cause you're not right about this, and Abigail went Stone Cold on him too at the same time it happened, Sam." I stiffened upon feeling a whirlwind of anger and before I could get out and do anything, someone had slammed their hands on my side of the car. I practically jumped into Dean's lap upon seeing Andy leaning in with a rather pissed off look.

"Hey! You think I haven't seen you three? Why are you following me?" He demanded, the last sentence reverberates strangely. Dean looked stunned.

Sam glanced up to me, "Well, we're lawyers." He answered, "See, a relative of yours has passed aw-"

"_Tell the truth_!"

I narrowed my eyes at him, "Listen, buddy. That's what he's—"

"We hunt demons." Dean answered honestly. Sam and I stared at him in shock.

Andy's face skewed into a look of disbelief, "What?"

"Dean!" I barked out.

He didn't listen, "Demons and spirits. Things your worst nightmares wouldn't even touch. Sam here, he's my brother." Dean motioned to Sam respectively, "That gorgeous ass-kicker there, is my girl, Abigail…well, we broke up. I've been trying like hell for the past week to get her back."

I felt my throat close at his revelation, "Dean, shut up!"

His eyes were wide in horror, "I'm trying!" He replied, panicked, "He's psychic. Kind of like you guys. Well, not really like you, Abigail, you're different." He turned to Andy, "But see, Sam thinks you're a murderer, and he's afraid that he's going to become one himself, 'cause you're all part of something that's terrible, but we think Abigail and my six week old daughter is the key to ending it." Sam and I sat in the car with our mouths hanging open. "I hope to hell that he's wrong, but I'm starting to get a little scared that he might be right."

"Okay, you know what? _Just leave me alone_." Andy said.

Dean nodded, "Okay." Andy started to walk away, leaving Dean in the front seat, cringing and holding his head. Sam and I climbed out of the car, following behind him. He turned back around.

"What are you doing?" He said, glancing from me to Sam. "Look, I-I said leave me alone." I arched my brow at him, "Alright? Get out of here, just start driving and never stop."

"Doesn't seem to work on me, Andy. _Or _my sister." Sam told him.

Andy's eyes widened, "What?"

"You can make people do things, can't you? You can tell them what to think." He continued. The sound of Dean getting out of the car caused me and Sam to look back at him, shaking our heads 'no' as a warning to not come closer.

"Look, tha—" Andy laughed, "That's crazy."

"It all started about a year ago, didn't it?" Sam asked, "After you turned twenty-two. Little stuff at first, and then you got better at controlling it."

Andy shuffled, uncomfortable at Sam's questions, "How do you know all this?"

"Because the same thing happened to me, Andy. My mom died in a fire, too. I have abilities too. You see, we're connected, you and me." Sam gestured between him and Andy. He was perturbed, but looked over to me, daring himself to ask me a question.

From our earlier encounter, he decided against it, "You know what? Just, just, just, just get out of here, alright?!"

"Why did you tell the doctor to walk in front of a bus?" Sam demanded. I grabbed his arm to ease him back to my side.

"What?"

Sam cringed in pain, as did I. There was a flash of fire, and a hand holding a gas pump. "Why did you kill him?"

"I didn't!" Andy shouted, upset.

Sam cringed, sagging into me as his premonition hit us both, full-force:

_A middle-aged blonde woman with leather gloves and a long black coat is pumping gas into an SUV. Her cellphone rings; she answers._

"_Hello?" She asked. There was a flash of fire, a man shying away from it. With a nod she smiled, "Sure. I can do that." Upon hanging up the phone, she leaned into the car, pressing down the cigarette lighter. She pulls out the gas pump and starts drenching herself in gasoline. A gas station employee across the way sees her._

"_Hey! Lady, what are you doing?!" He shouted out, bewildered. The woman pulled out the cigarette lighter, stepped out into the open with her arm held out._

"_It's gonna be okay." She said, lowering the lighter to her drenched arm._

"_Lady, no! No!" The employee shouted out, horrified. It was no time that this woman burst into flames_.

Unsteady from the premonition, I failed to keep Sam steady. Our hands were on our heads out of pain, beginning to fall. I didn't hear Dean run over to catch us both, nor did I feel him even grip my arm as I fell. All I know is that I felt the heat of the fire burn my skin, and I was on the verge of a breakdown right then and there.

"Sam? Abs?! What is it?" Dean's alarmed voice cut through the haze.

"Look, I didn't do anything to him." Andy told Dean out of panic.

"A woman." Sam muttered, "A woman burning alive."

"What else'd you get?" Dean asked.

I trembled, "A gas station, a woman is gonna kill herself."

Andy's eyes widened, "What does she mean, going to? What is she, what is—?"

"Shut up!" Dean ordered him from over his shoulder.

"She gets triggered by a call on her cell." I said, trying to wipe away fresh tears. Dean reached out to do so, appearing to be as distressed as we were.

"When?" He asked, gently.

Sam and I shook our heads, "We don't know." Dean helped Sam stand while motioning Andy to help me, "But as long as we keep our eyes on this son of a bitch he can't hurt her." Sam said, jerking his head in Andy's direction.

"He didn't hurt anybody." I defended him, earning shocked and disbelieving looks from Sam and Andy.

"Not yet." Sam told me just as a fire engine roared past. Watching it come by, my heart sank, so I started running after the fire engine. I didn't hear Sam tell Dean to go after me, or did I hear him calling out for me to wait. There was no time to wait. The closer I managed to get, the harder it became to breathe. My chest burned, my eyes burned; my entire body burned and I soon became overwhelmed by strong feelings of horror, disbelief, and sorrow.

"Son of a bitch." I breathed out, frozen in my spot upon seeing a group of firemen putting out the fire, Dean stopping close behind me. I hung my head, angry that we didn't make it there in time. Dean's hand touched my back as I covered my mouth.

"You okay?" I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting off a round of angry tears before nodding.

"Yeah… Call Sammy, tell him it's too late." Standing on the corner, across the street from everything that was happening, I sank to the curb, lowering my head to my knees. I had felt everything this woman felt in her last moments; the fear, the pain…regret. Behind me I could hear Dean talking to Sam in a low voice, pacing.

"Hey, it's me. She's dead. Burned up, just like you and Abs said." I bit my lower lip to stop the trembling, "Like minutes before we got here! I mean the smell hasn't even cleared." Dean let out harsh breath, "What's up with your visions, man? This wasn't even a head start." I jumped slightly at the sound of his boots scraping against the asphalt when he turned around, "Listen, you were with Andy when this whole thing went down, so it-it can't be him, it's gotta be somebody else doing this."

"It is," I muttered.

Dean paused, looking at me with an imploring look before his eyes narrowed at something Sam said to him. "What else is new?" He replied to Sam, "Well, Abs and I'll dig around here, see what else we can find." After he hung up, Dean joined me on the curb, "Mind tellin' me what you meant by that?"

I glanced over to the gas station, tears filling up my eyes, "My nightmare…there was somebody else that has the same thing. I-I couldn't exactly tell who it was…"

"And you didn't mind telling us this?" Dean's voice came out a little harsh.

"I just had it," I replied in a tone much similar to his, "That's what I woke up from in the back of the car when it got hijacked." When I looked over to Dean, he was staring back at me, shocked.

His features softened when he nodded slowly, "What else happened in it?"

It took me a minute to will myself to speak, "I just know that-that Sam, me, Andy, and that waitress was in it…and I, uh…got shot."

Silence. There was a sliver of fear that crept up my spine, as it had Dean's, "What?" I shrugged, remaining quiet, "Abigail, if someone is gonna shoot you, you need to tell me so Sam and I can help." He said, "Tell me what needs to happen."

"There's nothin' you can do about it, Dean." I muttered.

Dean let out scoff, "Nothing I can do about it?" He stood up, running his hands through his hair before they hit either side of his legs, "Abigail, you've got a hell of nerve—"

"At least you're the first one I'm talkin' about it to." I pointed out suddenly, seeing him halt and turn to look at me. Rising to my feet, I threw another glance to the gas station, "I know who's gonna shoot me and where it's gonna go down, but you're not gonna like it."

Dean gave me a hesitant look, "Tell me."

I worked my jaw oddly, "At some bridge, at night. Not sure when."

He nodded, "Okay…Who is it then? Andy?" I shook my head no, "Sam?" I shook my head again and I felt his heart squeeze, "It's me."

"I don't know… you weren't with us at the time." Dean looked like he had been slapped or punched in the gut, "Maybe it's someone else."

"Abigail, we need to figure this out—" He started to ramble.

"Dean," I cut him off, "It's gonna happen. I'm fine with it. I guess, in a way, I deserve it."

Dean's eyes narrowed, "How can you say that?"

"Because I can." I replied, "After everythin' I've done to you? Everythin' that's happened to my family, this past week—" I shook my head to get on with the bigger picture, "That hit's still on my head, Dean. I don't know if I live or die; I woke up." His entire body stood in a manner that read 'defiant', refusing to fall underneath the weight of his trepidation; something I let get to myself more often than I should. I ran a hand over my face, sifting through my head to try and pinpoint what I was missing—overlooking—so that there was some way of delaying the inevitable.

Amongst the clamoring from across the street, I managed to shove away several thoughts, outcomes and emotions that I was fighting with. I hadn't even realized that Dean had stood closer to me until I felt his arms wrap around my waist, only to pull me against him. I didn't move away from him, I didn't even think about wanting to move. I remained where I was at in his arms, like I wanted to be all this time. I didn't even want to think about us being broke up, for this moment; this day, would potentially be my last. And as a result, I did the unthinkable. I tipped my head up, pressed my lips against his, and squeezed my eyes shut. I expected him to push me away like I was the common plague, cuss me out, make up every excuse to _not_ kiss me despite everything that's happened between us, but he didn't, which surprised me to say the least.

At first, he was startled about what was happening, fighting with himself really. However, under the circumstances that had been laid out on the table in front of him, Dean relented, sliding his hands from around my waist in order to hold my face between them as he kissed me back. It was a gentle kiss, a short one. Coming from Dean, it was reassuring. As he pulled away, everything about him; his stance, his demeanor, and the light that he held within his eyes seemed to have softened, maybe even glazed over with hidden fear.

"We'll figure something out, Abs. I swear it." He said lightly, "We need to find out as much as we can here so that we can link Sam's premonitions together—see why everything is happening."

* * *

_**Sam's Point of View**_

_**Vacant Lot—Day**_

Sometime had passed by. Perturbed that my premonition had already happened, I sat across from Andy on an abandoned truck, explaining what Dean, Abigail, and I did since we had nothing but time until my brother and Abigail came back from the scene. After hearing a little bit about him, I realized that Andy was an alright kid.

"So, you get these premonitions of people about to die?" Andy reiterated. I nodded in response, watching as Andy shook his head, "That's impossible."

The corner of my mouth quirked up as I laughed, "A lot of people would say the same thing about what you do."

He let out a laugh of concession, "But ... death visions?"

I nodded for about the third time, "Yeah."

"Dude, that sucks. I mean, like, when I got my mind thing? It was like a gift, you know, it was, it was like I won the Lotto."

"But you still live in a van." I pointed out to him, "I don't get it, I mean, you could ... have anything you ever wanted."

Andy lifted his shoulders up in a shrug, "I mean, I-I got everything I need."

"So you're really not a killer, huh?"

Andy let out a laugh, "That's what I've been trying to tell you! Hell, seems like that Abigail was right."

I laughed along with him, only softer, "Yeah. Apparently so. Means there's hope for both of us."

"Lemme tell you, she's one tough chick, Abigail is." He said, "I don't exactly blame her for landing those punches," I smiled as he gestured to one side of his face that held a couple of bruises and red places.

"Abigail's something else." I said.

"So what's the deal with your brother and her?" Andy blurted out, earning a surprised look from me. He held his hands up as a submissive gesture, "Sorry, habit."

I scratched the back of my head, "It's fine. Uh…It's just, they hit a rough patch in the road."

Andy snorted, "Sounds like they hit a ditch."

"Yeah, it sounds a lot better than 'rough patch'." I agreed, "I guess things didn't exactly go as they wanted…they're both stubborn. Even when we were kids, they always argued and fought."

"So, she has abilities too?"

I nodded, "Yeah, she's been able to see supernatural beings—the things my brother, Abigail, and I hunt—since she could remember. Recently, she got this ability to step into a room or touch an object, and from what she says, it's like stepping into the past and being able to see what had happened and feel what they felt." For the most part, Andy seemed perplexed about everything happening around him. Distressed, maybe, but who wouldn't be? We sat in silence for a moment.

"Do you think what your brother said about her being able to fix this is true?" He asked.

"I don't know," I replied honestly, "I'd be lying if I said 'yes'."

Andy nodded slowly, looking down at the truck bed in front of him, "I always wanted a brother or a sister; someone that had my back." Andy shrugged, "You're a lucky man, Sam, to be able to have a brother like Dean, and an adopted sister like Abigail. Hell, to even be able to say you have a niece." I couldn't help but smile at that. Maybe I was lucky.

We turned upon hearing the roar of the Impala, standing up as Dean and Abigail got out of the car. Given their grave expressions, I hoped that they had at least come up with something useful.

"Victim's name was Holly Beckett, forty-one, single." Dean announced, coming to the front of the car with Abigail meeting him. I noticed that they were standing closer to each other, _much_ closer.

"Who is she?" I asked, looking over to Andy.

He shook his head, "Never heard of her."

Abigail leaned against the bonnet, "We called Ash on the way over here; he came up with a little somethin'." She said, squinting from the sun shining in her eyes, "Apparently Holly Beckett gave birth when she was eighteen years old, back in 1983." Her eyes went to Andy, "Same day you were born, Andy."

I furrowed my brows at him, "Andy, were you adopted?"

"Well, yeah." He replied with a small shrug.

"You were? And you neglected to mention that?" Dean asked in annoyance.

"Never really came up." Andy told us, "I mean, I-I never knew my birth parents, and-and like you said my adopted mom died when I was a baby do you—do you think this Holly woman could actually be my—?"

Dean and Abigail exchanged sympathetic glances, "We don't know." She answered his unanswered question, "Dean and I tried to get a copy of the birth records, but they're hard copy only, sealed in the county office."

"Well, screw that." Andy said with a confident smile.

Come sun down, the four of us were in the back room of the records office sifting through boxes of files; Dean, Abigail, and I were while Andy walked an elderly security guard to the door.

"Probably shouldn't have left you kids in here." He said, worried.

"No, it'll all be fine. Alright? Just go get a cup of coffee." Andy told him in reassurance, as the guard left, he continued in a dramatic voice, "_These aren't the 'droids you're looking for._"

Abigail and Dean grinned as they overheard a quote from Star Wars, "Awesome."

For the most part I ignored them, only snapping my fingers to get their attention, pointing down to a paper, "I got it."

"Yeah?" Abigail asked.

"Yeah." I replied, looking up at Andy sympathetically, "Andy, it's true. Holly Beckett was your birth mother."

Andy just looked stunned. Hurt about the unfortunate events that had happened prior, "Huh." He managed to say as he sunk down into a chair, looking to each of us, "Does anyone have a Vicodin?"

"Dr. Jennings was her doctor, too, I mean, he oversaw the adoption. You have a solid connection to both of them." I told him.

"Yeah, but I-I didn't kill them." Andy insisted.

Abigail reached out to touch him on the shoulder in reassurance, a gentle reassuring smile to add with it. "We believe you."

Dean and I nodded, agreeing with her, "Yeah."

"But uh, who did?" Dean asked.

"I think I got a pretty good guess." I added, "Holly Beckett gave birth to twins." This was pretty hard news to take. Andy had leaned over with both hands on his head, staring at the ground in front of him in shock. Abigail and Dean stood by a printer nearby awaiting a fax to be sent over while I paced in front of them with a folder in my hands.

"I have an evil twin." Andy spoke finally. I glanced over to Dean and Abigail, who shrugged at me, equally concerned.

"Holly put you and your brother up for adoption. And you went to the Gallagher family, obviously," I elaborated for him, "and your brother went to the Weems family from upstate."

Andy fell silent again, staring ahead. Dean took a step forward upon seeing Andy's face turn a few shades paler than some of the papers in the room, "Andy, how you doin'? Still with us?"

"Um… What was my brother's name?" Andy asked, looking up at me from the chair.

"Ansen Weems." I said, "And he's got a local address."

Andy's eyes shot up to me in shock, as did Dean and Abigail's, "He-he lives here?"

Upon hearing the fax machine go off, Abigail twisted around to catch the paper coming out, "Let's get a look at 'im. Got his picture comin' off from the DMV right now." She explained, pulling some papers out of the printer and looked at them. Her face blanched, nudging Dean in the side, earning a deeply concerned look from him as he took a look at the papers too.

"Hate to kick you while you're freaked." Dean said, "Take a look at that." He held out one of the pages to Andy, who looked up in shock. I gaped.

It was Weber.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Road—Night**_

Dean was driving the Impala down a dark road with Sam beside him and Andy in the back seat with me.

"Alright, Andy." I spoke gently, "Tell us everythin' you know about this guy."

He shrugged, "Well, I mean, not much. I... Weber shows up one day, eight months ago? Acting like he's my best friend in the world. Kinda weird, like, trying too hard, you know?"

I cringed slightly, glancing up to Sam, who was rubbing his eyes. _He's getting ready to have another premonition_, I thought.

"Must have known you guys were twins," Dean suggested, "Why did he change his name? Why not just tell you the truth?"

"No idea."

Sam let out a pained sound, causing Dean to look at his brother concerned, "Sam?" I practically lunged up from the backseat, planting my hand firmly on Sam's shoulder. I needed to see things for myself as Dean's bewildered shouts faded away.

_Tracy wearing only satin lingerie walked slowly to the side of a ravine. Crying, she climbed onto the ledge and looks around. She paused, looking back, then leapt._

It didn't end there for me. I heard a series of glass shattering, angry shouts, and two gunshots. It was like a whirlwind of chaos that erupted in front of my very eyes, like a bad acid trip—the ones they try to perceive on TV.

_I saw Weber's face grinning hysterically, "I see you!"_ _It repeated until it began to slow down into a low, rumbling growl that ended a condescending, pair of yellow-eyes and a Cheshire cat grin._

"_I see you, Abby-girl."_

Sam's panicked yells slammed me back into reality, breathing hard when Dean stopped the car, and I covered my mouth with both of my hands to stop a scream from escaping. In the backseat, I curled up, trembling with Dean kneeling in front of Sam, grabbing his shoulders.

"Sam? Sam!" He yelled out, "Hey! What'd you see?"

Andy had scrounged himself against the driver's side door as I ran my hand through my tangled hair, "Hey! Hey, man, she's freaking out back here, too!"

Dean swung the door open, pulling my face to look at him. His eyes were wide and wild with concern, "Abs, hey. Look at me." His face was etched in fear for the both of us as he scanned my face, "What'd you see? What'd you and Sam see?"

"A dam." Sam croaked out from the front. Time was now of the essence. Between the time it took to get there and the time it took for Sam and I to clear our heads, we all got out and circled around to the trunk, which Dean opened.

Sam reached out to stop him, only for his brother to give him a hard look, "Dean, you should stay back."

Hazel eyes fell on me before flickering back to Sam, then nodded, "No argument here. Had my head screwed with enough for one day." Sam gestured his head to me, pulling out two handguns. The both of us were stopped; Sam by Andy and myself by Dean. His hand was wrapped tightly around my arm.

"You don't have to go out there." He told me in a low tone.

"I know." I said simply, glancing over to Sam and Andy's heated argument. Pulling my bottom lip in, I chewed on it a second before Dean released my arm, bringing his hand to my cheek as his thumb brushed my lips. Wordlessly, he tipped his head to capture my lips against his. The way he kissed me absolutely took my breath away, being every sense of who Dean was as a person; soft and easy going, but somehow heavy and urgent.

"Don't go," he barely whispered his plea after we pulled away, leaving enough room between us to stare at each other.

I reached out to take his face in my hands, seeing him close his eyes and lean into my touch. Overall, he was tense about the whole situation, the truth of what was going to boil down to. The fact that I could feel it as if it were my own, killed me. I wanted to stay behind, be safe with him by my side, but Sam needed me to back him up, "I can't, Dean, and you know that."

"I know…" he mumbled.

I took a deep breath, "Dean…if things go bad, I just—"

"I'm sorry too." Tears pricked my eyes at his words.

I nodded, "…I love you."

Dean's face skewed into a pained expression, cupping his hand over mine and squeezed it, "Be careful, _please_."

"Always, Dorkchester." I teased, trying to elicit a smile from him.

It worked for the most part, the corner of his mouth tipped up into a light, uneasy laugh before we heard Sam clear his throat. Dean's grip on my hand tightened for a split second. I looked back to him, then gently pulled my hand from Dean's. I pulled off my necklace—the one he made—placing it in his hand, "I'm comin' back for this." I told him, "Don't lose it."

"You got it," He replied weakly. I offered a weak smile before I kissed him again, quickly this time, then turned to walk with Sam and Andy. We had come up to a car with two figures in it. I motioned over to the driver's side with Weber's back turned to us as the passenger side contained Tracy—she was terrified, though at ease at the same time if that was even possible.

Sam didn't hesitate and shattered the window, holding his handgun in Weber's face, "Get out of the car! Now!"

"_You really don't want to do this._" Weber growled out almost, it sounded distorted. Sam backhanded him across the face, while I pulled the passenger door open, allowing Andy to pull Tracy out.

She was fighting against him, "Tracy! Come here, come here, come here." He told her, trying to calm her down, "It's okay."

"Andy! I can't!" She replied, "I couldn't control myself." I gazed at her sympathetically before I rounded the front of the car with my gun drawn when Sam pinned Weber facedown over the pavement, ordering him not to move. I pulled out a roll of duct tape, tearing off a strip and slapped it over Weber's mouth just as Andy rushed over to kick him twice. He was _furious_. Sam hauled him backwards.

"No! No, Andy, let me and Abigail handle this, alright?"

"I'm gonna kill you!" Andy roared out from over Sam's shoulder.

I pointed to Andy, "No! Sam and I'll handle this! We'll handle this!"

Overtop Andy's furious screams, I heard Sam saying, "Andy! Listen to me! Listen to me!" I felt a similar, uncontrollable feeling of ease once more, glancing up from Weber as Tracy picked up a large stick.

"Sam!" I shouted out, just as she hit him on the back of the neck, "No!" I went over to him, forgetting about Weber when Andy turned to Tracy.

"Tracy, stop!" Andy told her, "I said _stop it_!" Tracy dropped the stick and backed away, terrified. I checked on Sam, tapping his face with some force behind it—he was out cold. Andy and I focused on Weber, who was up on his feet, pulling the duct tape off his mouth.

"How did you do that?" Andy asked warily.

"Practice, bro. If you'd just practice, you would know. Sometimes you don't need to use your words. If you have to," Weber tapped his forehead with a flippant smile, "All you need is this. Sometimes the headache's worth it."

Andy lunged at Weber, "You're a twisted son of a bitch!"

I pointed my gun at Weber, "Don't make a move, Weber."

Weber's eyes fell on me, taking in my appearance before he smirked, "You know, the fact that you're holding a gun makes you even hotter," I clenched my jaw at his words, "Kinda sucks you gotta die. So, if you wanna live a little bit longer, I'd suggest you back off." Weber turned his eyes to Andy, "Along with you, Andy. Or Tracy's gonna do a little flying."

My eyes followed over to see Tracy standing on the ledge, "Alright! Just-just, don't do anythin' rash." I relented, slowly lowering my gun to the asphalt and held my hands up.

"Okay." Andy said as well, "Alright, just- just please don't hurt her." We stood next to each other with our hands up.

"Don't be mad at me, okay? I know, it's-it's all wrong. I didn't mean for this to happen, it's just... Tracy? She's trying to come between us." Weber told Andy.

"You're insane." I said.

"She's garbage!" Weber shouted, "They all are! We can-we can push them, we can make them do whatever we want!"

"Are you really- are you really this stupid? Is it-?" Andy fumbled over his words, unable to form a coherent sentence, "I mean, you, you learn you've got a twin...you call him up, you go out for a drink, you don't start killing people!" He exclaimed as Sam started to come to. I kneeled by him, brushing his hair from his eyes. With a wince, he nodded at me that he was okay.

"I've wanted to tell you for so long, bro. But he didn't let me. He said I had to wait until the time was..." I snapped my head up.

"Who?" I demanded.

"The man with the yellow eyes." He replied, feeling his eyes fall on me. I felt a chill run up and down my spine, "He told me about you—about what you'll do to his plans." There was a smile in his voice, "He said if I exterminate you, I'd get a fine reward."

"What're you talking about?" Andy demanded.

Weber turned to Andy with a grin, "He came to me. In my dream. He said I was special. He told me he's got big plans for me." I held my head, suddenly in pain. I didn't know what was going on, barely catching snippets of what Weber was saying,"I couldn't-I couldn't let 'em do that, I couldn't let them get away with that. No." He turned as if he had heard something, "I see you!" He called out.

I stood up quickly, turning to look around when agunshot rang out, and I fell back onto the concrete, hitting my head against the concrete _hard_. I heard another series shouts, another gunshot, then silence before I finally urged myself to reach up to my shoulder. Retracting my hand, I saw it glistening a dark red from under the illumination of the moon. With a pained groan, the numbness from the adrenaline wore off.

I sat alongside the concrete wall with Sam and Dean standing off to the side nearby. We were all watching Andy talk to the cops with more confidence in his voice it sounded like.

"Look at him. He's getting better at it." Sam muttered to Dean. I watched as he passed an ambulance where Tracy was sitting with a blanket around her shoulders. He paused, only for her to avoid his look, before he pressed on to us. With an approving nod from the medic, he straightened up and left just as Andy approached. Dean held out his hand to help me up, I took it.

"She won't even look at me." Andy told us.

"Yeah, she's pretty shaken up." Sam mused.

"No, it's—" Andy shook his head, "This is different. It's, uh, I never-I never used my mind thing on her before. Before last night." He threw her another glance, "She's scared of me now."

"Hey, Andy, I hate to do this, but um, we have to get out of here." Sam said apologetically, then held out a piece of paper, "Here. I wrote down my cell, and Abigail's." He told him, "You don't have to be alone in this, alright? If anything comes up, just call me or her."

"We'll be right there." I added, before the three of us began to walk away.

Andy was left fumbling over his words, "Wha- what am I supposed to do now?"

We paused, turning to look at him. "You be good, Andy. Or we'll be back." I frowned that Dean had to threaten Andy like that, but I was too sore and too tired to really say anything otherwise. Maybe it was best that Dean had said that, since Andy was already scared. Dean placed his hand at the small of my back when we started back to the Impala.

"Looks like I was right." Sam said.

I arched my brow, "About what?" I asked.

"Andy. He's a killer after all." He replied.

Dean shook his head at him, "No, he's a hero. He saved his girlfriend's life, he saved my life, and even stopped Weber from killing Abigail."

"Bottom line, last night, he wasted somebody." Sam reiterated.

"Yeah, but he's not a foamin'-at-the-mouth psycho, like Max was." I pointed out from between them, "He was just-" I shrugged, "He was pushed into that."

"Weber was pushed too, in his own way. Max Miller was pushed. Hell, I was pushed by Jessica's death." Sam argued.

Dean and I rolled our eyes at him, pausing, "What's your point, Sam?"

"Right circumstances, everyone's capable of murder-_everyone_." He said, "You know, maybe that's what the demon's doing. Pushing us." I furrowed my brows, feeling Dean's hand tighten slightly, "Finding ways to break us."

"Sam, we don't know what the demon wants, okay?" Dean said, "Quit worrying about it."

"You know, I heard you before, Dean, when Andy made you tell the truth. You're just as scared of this as I am." Sam used his last card.

"That was mind control!" Dean chided, pulling his arm away from me, "I mean, it's like-like" He shook his head, "That's like being roofied, man, that doesn't count!"

"What?" Sam asked. I glanced between the two with an amused smile.

Dean shook his head fervently, "No. I'm-I'm calling do-over."

"What are you, seven?" I quipped.

"Doesn't matter." He told me, "Look, we've just gotta keep doing what we're doing, find that evil son of a bitch and kill it. That means you too, Abs. You gotta stay with us. We'll stay near Sioux Falls until Megan's out, and after the demon's dead and gone, then you can do whatever." I held my hands up at him, signaling defeat on that.

Dean looked over to Sam with a firm gaze. Sam nodded doubtfully, "Yeah, I guess."

* * *

_**Roadhouse—Day**_

Sam, Dean, and I were sitting at the bar, Ellen behind it and Jo walking around the outside. Since we had arrived, Jo had been flitting around us, near Dean of course. As far as I knew, I didn't know mine and his relationship status.

"Jo?" Ellen asked. She looked up at her mother, "Go pull up another case of beer."

"Mom..." She began to protest.

"Now. Please." Ellen said firmly. With an agitated sigh, Jo left, leaving the four of us in the bar. She leaned on the bar in front of us, "So. You uh, you want to tell me about this last hunt of yours?"

Dean shook his head, "No. Not really." He said, "No offense, it's just kind of a family thing."

"Not anymore." Ellen dropped a stack of papers on the bar in front of us. Our eyes widened, "I got this stuff from Ash. Andrew Gallagher's house burnt down on his six month birthday, just like your house. You think it was the demon both times, don't you? You think it went after Gallagher's family?"

Sam slowly nodded, "Yeah, we think so."

Dean shot his brother a dark look, "Sam..."

"Why?" She asked.

"None of your business." Dean growled out.

"You mind your tongue with me, boy. This isn't just your war, this _is_ war." Ellen pointed her finger at him threateningly, "Now, something big and bad's coming and it's coming fast, and their side holds all the cards." She looked to each of us, "Now, at best all we got is us. Together. No secrets or half-truths here."

"There are people out there, like Andy Gallagher, like me, and Sam." I spoke finally. "And um ... we all have some kind of ability—except mine's different from theirs."

Ellen's brows furrowed at me, "Ability?" Dean rolled his eyes, uncomfortable, no doubt.

Sam nodded, "Yeah. Psychic ability. Me, I have, um, I have visions. Premonitions." He explained with a shrug, "I don't know, it's, it's different for everybody. The demon said he had plans for people like us."

"What kind of plans?" She questioned.

"We don't really know for sure." I said.

"These people out there, these psychics - they dangerous?"

Dean shook his head slowly, "No. Not all of them."

"But some are." Sam added, "Some are very dangerous."

Ellen nodded, "Okay, how many of them are we looking at?"

"We've been able to track a clear pattern so far." I said, "They've all had house fires on the night of the kid's six month birthday."

"That's not true." Sam chimed in.

Dean and I frowned, "What?"

"Weber? Or Ansen Weems, or whatever his name is—I looked at his files, and there was no house fire. There's nothing out of the ordinary." Sam explained. I fully twisted in my stool to look at him with a stern face.

"Which breaks pattern. So if there's any others like him, there'd be nothing in the system. No way to track 'em all down."

"And so who knows how many of 'em are really out there?" Dean mused in realization.

"Jo honey?" Ellen called out.

"Yeah?" She called back.

"You'd better break out the whiskey instead." Ellen said, holding her gaze on me, "Abigail, your abilities."

"Mine aren't like Sam's or these other kids'." I told her, "It's different—I'm surprised my mom and dad didn't say anythin' to you about it."

Ellen shook her head, "This is news to me."

I swallowed, "_O_kay," I muttered, "I can see supernatural bein's, meanin' that whatever we're huntin' I can see it's true form. If we're at a hospital, then I can see spirits and reapers runnin' around—creepy really." Dean and Sam stared at me, taken aback. They didn't know about that, "But it's half-assed. Sometimes it'll work and sometimes it won't until the last minute." I turned my eyes to the wooden bar, tapping my index finger, "I can also step into a room or touch an object—it's like steppin' into the past and bein' able to see what had happened and feel what they felt." Ellen straightened back, blinking. I debated on coming out with the newest addition, now was a perfect time. Dean and Sam were silent as I laid my cards onto the table. It was bewildering to them both that I was being so open about my abilities, since I was often really secretive.

I reached forward for my beer, took the last sip of it and set it down, "And uh, I got a, uh…" I closed my eyes, feeling Dean's eyes on me, "I got a new ability."

"What?" Sam breathed out, "When?"

"When I woke up from that coma," I answered.

"You mean to tell me that you've had this-this new ability and—" Dean scoffed, "It fuckin' figures." He muttered.

"If you're thinkin' I told Sam, I didn't." I bit out, "I've told _no one_."

His eyes met mine, "What is it then? What can you do?"

"Whatever emotion you're experiencin', I know it, I feel it, and sometimes, I act on it." I replied. This was harder than I imagined, "Like right now? You're pissed, of course with you, you're always pissed about somethin'." Dean simply rolled his eyes, "Sammy's stunned, a little hurt that I didn't say anythin', and Ellen is…more or less bewildered."

"Bewildered is only scratching the surface," She said.

"So…you're like some kind of empath?" Sam asked.

I shrugged, "I s'pose. I've dealt with it since I've been awake…" I shook my head, scrunching my face into a distasteful expression, "It's hard, y'know? Dealin' with everyone's emotions; not knowin' which is your own." Dean just looked like he'd been violated in some way. Wordlessly, he shook his head, stood up with his beer in tow and walked out of the establishment.

"Dean? Dean!" Sam called out, ready to go after him. I held my hand out, signaling him to stop, "We gotta get him back in here."

I glanced to Ellen, who held a knowing gaze, "I got it, Sammy." Walking out after him, I had to start thinking back to when we started fighting. The entire time we were, I was acting upon Dean's emotions, not my own, or at least, half-assed mine. Thinking back to mine and Ellen's talk the other day, she was right; what I did to Dean was probably one of the worst things I could have done to him. I pushed him away when he was trying to comfort me back at the barn. I ran away like a coward, which I told him, no, _promised_ him many years back that I wouldn't do. I saw Dean near the Impala, back turned towards me.

_Just tell him_, I encouraged myself, _he may not forgive you, but you gotta do it. For Megan_. As I got close to him, I stood a few feet away, not looking at him. I already knew what he was feeling. Everything from the past few days were finally bubbling up towards the surface. I felt my chest tighten and my stomach churn when I saw Dean avoiding eye contact and staring down at his drink.

I let out a deep breath, "Dean...this last case had me thinkin'…I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for what I did to you at the motel that night. I'm-I'm sorry about everythin' that had happened back at Charlie's…back at the barn…" Dean was still looking down at his glass. "If it makes you feel better… you can stop doin' whatever this is." I gestured between us, "Just don't worry about us, and if somethin' happens to me, don't breathe for me."

Dean looked up from his bottle in a deadly glare. "How the hell can you tell me to do that?" He snarled.

"Dean, I have treated you like shit, and after what I did to you at Kara and Charlie's, I...I just feel like you don't need to do anythin' like that."

"You don't get it, do you?" he stated. "Abs, I care about you. I was afraid I was going to _lose_ you back at that motel. I just can't have Megan lose you either." His hand ran down his face roughly, shaking his head as he looked over at me, "I don't want to explain to her that her mother died before she got to know her. I just can't watch you go down again."

"Dean, you're right. I was very wrong." I confessed, mentally cringing over the fact that my voice was beginning to waver under my emotions, "I just feel so weak knowin' that I brought a child into this fucked up world, and I couldn't protect her when she came. I feel like I failed her, and mostly you and Sam."

"That's not true."

"Dean, the more I think about it, the more it makes sense."

"Stop with the bullshit, Abigail!" He shouted, "I need you! I need you to see that I need you! _Please_." I saw that look in his eyes, and it was of pure fear and love mixed into one. I debated what to do right now. I lowered my eyes to the ground in front of us, hearing him let out a sigh, "You gotta be fuckin' kidding me…" He muttered, "Abigail, I didn't cross half of the U.S. to drag your ass back up here for a tea party."

"I kinda had that figured out after I got shot," I quipped, feeling my chest clench at the stab of guilt that went through him. "Dean, look…if you're serious about us fixin' things, then we need to level and get things clear."

"Shoot."

"Us talkin'." I said simply, "It doesn't matter what it's about, if somethin' is botherin' you and me of course, we gotta spill. This not talkin' to us is what got us here in the first place." I met his gaze, seeing him nod, "I don't care what it is. If you're knee is twingin' from a hunt, you tell me. Same with me, I'll tell you; like it's always been before everythin' went to hell."

"Alright," He said, "I can do that." I made a few other points, each of which he agreed upon. Dean then took a breath, turning his head slightly to look at me, "What you said back at the barn… that was unacceptable. Granted, I didn't need to say what I said about you and Sam." I hung my head, averting his gaze after hearing him set the glass bottle down, "We don't need to be dragging Sam into every argument we have, and yes, I know I'm the one who generally brings him into it." I looked at him with an arched brow, he rolled his eyes at me, "And yes, I _might_ be a little jealous of the relationship you two have."

"So you are jealous." I stated in a matter-of-factly tone.

"No, I said I _might_ be." He told me, "There's a difference."

It was my turn to roll my eyes at him, "No, there isn't."

"Let's just agree to disagree." I smirked at him, sensing that he was trying to be a tease.

"Deal. Also, I have a proposition."

"Oh God, what?" He groaned out. I shoved him playfully, earning a playful smile in response from him.

"We start from the bottom and work our way up." I stated, "Slow build. Brick by brick. Meanin', no shortcuts at all."

Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek as he considered everything, then nodded, "Okay."

"You know this means we don't have sex until we're both ready." I stated.

He nodded with a smirk, "I know. The girls of B.A.B have my back." I snorted out laughing with him joining in shortly after. I leaned over and pressed my lips against his with a smile. He pulled away a hair, grinning back at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What?" I asked a little breathless.

"You know, I was thinkin'…your new ability," He started, making his grin widen further with a suggestive waggle of his brows, "Since you can feel everything and act on it… just makes me curious you know?"

"What're you gettin' at, Dean?"

* * *

A rough sound erupted from Dean as we laid buck naked in the back of the Impala, our clothes strewn about haphazardly throughout the front seat and back floorboards, entangled amongst our limbs. Palming a breast, then the other, our breaths grew ragged as we pressed on. Let me tell you something, this _empathy_ ability might have its downs, but sweet lord did it have its ups. Everything was multiplied tenfold, and I could hardly breathe from under the weight of it. Feeling Dean drag his hot mouth across my skin, I could only let out high-pitched gasps, which seemed to have urged him on into a spiraling tornado as he started to buck his hips against mine with increasing force behind each one.

Letting loose of my breasts, Dean reached up to entangle his hand in my hair, pulling it as lowered his mouth to where my neck and shoulder met. My arms wound around him, dragging my nails along his back with each thrust, "_Dean_…" I managed to gasp out when the last thrust struck the bottom. Then it became exaggerated, leaving me gasping out, digging my nails into his back until he halted altogether.

Dean let out a shuddering breath that made me concerned. His eyes were wide with fear, only for me to take his face in my hands, "Dean, I'm right here." I said quickly, lifting up to kiss him on the lips, "I'm right here, babe." That fearful look left, being replaced with a softer expression. He swallowed loudly, nodding as his lips then crashed back down onto mine. With another punctuated thrust, I gasped out, only to hear him mutter 'breathe'. I didn't question it because the quicker those domineering movements became, the higher he sent me into cloud nine. Just as we fell from there, he stilled with a groan, pulling me closer against him with his forehead pressed against mine.

"You have no idea…" He managed to say in between breaths before he buried his face in the crook of my neck, running a hand along my leg that was wrapped around his waist, "how much I've missed this."

Running my fingers through his hair tenderly, I hummed, "I think I do."

Lifting his head, he stared down at me with a salacious grin, "So…"

"So much for slow build," I said, eliciting a chuckle from him as he kissed me again.

"Next time, slow build." He promised.

"Definitely." I amended with a grin, "I'm pretty sure Sam came out here."

Dean raised up on his elbows with an amused smile, "Oh?"

I thought for a second, "Yeah, he definitely was."

Dean grinned, "Bet he caught a show he didn't need to watch."

"He saw more than enough, like that perky ass of yours." I teased, running my left hand over the top of his buttocks.

"You like it and you know it," He retorted.

"That I do," I hummed with a grin. Getting dressed and walking back into the roadhouse, Ellen was behind the bar cleaning glasses and looked up. Her brows rose with a knowing smirk that made Dean shuffle uncomfortably.

"Where's Sam?" He asked.

"In the back, washing his eyes out." She replied. We took our seats seeing her start to chuckle, "Must've seen something traumatizing."

We glanced at each other with smug grins, "Yeah, must've." Dean replied.

"Ya'll get everything sorted out?"

Dean took my hand in his from under the bar, "You could say that."

* * *

**So, we're finally here on _Simon Said,_**** and like I promised, it had a happy ending despite our little Megan's absence! I promise there will be a chapter that will have a happy ending with her included, I'll even pinky-swear it! I do apologize that it took this long to have it out, but life has been a b-word to me as of late. I can't promise that I will be able to work on _No Exit_ much next week due to implications coming up, but I'll have it out as soon as I can! (:**

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**I'd love to thank _Ladysunshine6_ for lending some help with writing a few scenes and adding in a few things like writing their argument before their big scene! ****I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise. **

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me, I love receiving both!**

**Tumblr: coltabigail dot tumblr dot com!**

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**The song for this chapter: _Can't You See?_ by The Marshall Tucker Band.**

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**grapejuice101- Thank you! I hope you liked this chapter than the last! (:**

**SassyGrl23- Awe, I'm sorry! I hope this made up for it! **

**Guest- Thank you!**

**angelicedg- I have a defibrillator nearby if you ever need it! haha. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! (:**

**sarahmichellegellarfan1- Ugh! I know right? Hopefully this chapter made up for everything and met your expectations!**

**giddyfan- Ugh! I know it! But as I promised, this chapter made up for it with a good ending. (:**

**ebonywarrior85- Thank you! And I know! Jensen is simply perfection! haha. **


	10. No Exit

**NICU—Day**

Since we had made it back to Sioux Falls from the Roadhouse, Dean had decided to stay over at the NICU, _insisting_ that Sam and I needed rest and wind down from our escapade with the late Weber. Yet, here we were, scrubbing our hands in almost scalding hot water.

"You heard Dean, Abs," Sam said as he bent over in the sink to rinse off the suds that reached up to his elbows, "We need to rest. You and I both know that _you_ aren't—"

"What I _need _to do, Sammy, is see my daughter." I muttered, watching as a nurse walked by us. Glancing over my shoulder, I winced, resuming rinsing my arms off, "We've had it rough the past week. Yeah, I get that." Flicking my hands to rid them of water as I reached over to the paper towels, I grabbed handfuls to wipe them dry, "But that doesn't mean I get to throw mine and Dean's kid off on him while I sit with my thumb up my ass. We've got nada, so therefore," I threw the wad of paper towels in the garbage bin nearby, "We can do that here."

Sam wiped his arms and hands off with a weary nod, "Yeah, you gotta point." The yawn he possessed was evident he was exhausted still, making me pause.

"Sam, you didn't have to come with me." I told him gently, "You're still tired."

"You're still sore," he countered with a jerk of his chin to my shoulder. I smiled at him, nodding, "So, with this…new ability," Sam began to say slowly, as if searching for the right words, I paused.

"Yeah?"

His lips formed a thin line out of deep thought, "How do you stay sane with all of these emotions hitting you all at once?"

I shrugged with my good shoulder, "I deal with it." Sam's brows rose.

"Is that all?" He asked, "You-you just _deal_ with it?"

"Yeah, pretty much." I replied, "Roll with the punches." We started down the hall, passing a room or so, "I mean, it gets rougher the more densely populated an area is—like Sioux Falls, and it gets harder bein' in here." My mouth fell into that of a half-frown, "Some days are like, sittin' in a classroom with the loudest, most annoyin' kids you can find. Then some days are like sittin' in a classroom full of old people, and a handful of kids." I paused again, outside Megan's room, glancing over to the door. The shades were down and lights were off. "And some days, I wonder how I'm not sendin' a bullet through my head."

I felt a flare of disapproval in the pit of my stomach. "So is that why there's an empty bottle of Vicodin in your bag?"

My heart sunk, "How'd you-?"

Sam shook his head, glancing around, "It fell out when I got your bag out of the car." I looked down to the floor in front of me, unable to speak for I was too ashamed that I had been so careless, "Abigail…are you using again?"

I worked my jaw oddly, avoiding my not-so-little brother's gaze, "I'd like to think not, but I know better."

There was another flare of disapproval, then the sinking feeling of disappointment, "Why—how?" Sam fumbled around his words, unable to form legitimate sentences, "What's in God's name possessed you to do that?"

"Everythin'." I muttered, "Dad dyin', Dean and I fightin', _breakin'_ up…Megan bein' in the hospital, and _this_?" I finally looked up at Sam, seeing how distraught he was and how angry he was with me, "Sammy, how am I s'posed to deal with that in a healthy way?"

He scoffed, "Uh, you could talk, but you and Dean are so much alike—it's uncanny, really."

"Absent the Vicodin."

"Yeah, absent the Vicodin." Sam, more or less, spat out, "Abigail, how stupid can you be for relapsing? Does Dean know?"

I shook my head vigorously, eyes wide as if I saw a spider the size of Sam's head crawl by, "_No_. Hell no." I told him firmly, "If he found out…I don't know how he'd take it, to be truthful." Sam rolled his eyes up to the ceiling with a cynical smile, "Sammy, listen to me." I spoke lightly in fear of Dean overhearing in the room, "I know you're pissed, _I know_. You gotta believe me when I say that I haven't used in a week—not since Dean and I split up."

Sam's eyes fell back onto me, caution laced in them from underneath the cover of his shaggy hair, "So you quit?"

I nodded, "Yeah. Exactly. I tossed them down the toilet the second night I was away. Sammy, I couldn't go back down that road again—not with Megan needin' me." He let out another scoff, "I know I skipped out on you and Dean. I'm not gonna live that down, not for a while. You're mad at me for doin' that, I understand."

"We needed you, Abigail." He muttered, "_I_ needed you."

I frowned, "I shoulda been there when you had that premonition, Sammy. But I can't change that. I'm here now, and I don't plan on leavin' again."

"Why did you start using again?" Sam asked in a quiet voice, his puppy dog look in full-effect.

"This new ability, bein' an empath or whatever," My hands made a circle to elaborate my words, "It's a whole new level of hysteria, Sam. Nothin' I ever experienced. I needed to drown it out, and Vicodin was all I had. Bein' drunk would've been too obvious." I pointed out, "Sam, I'm not gonna use it again. If I can go a week without it, then I'm sure I've got this."

Sam fell silent. _Too_ silent for my liking.

"Fine." He said, "But if you feel like it's getting too much, you talk. Talk to me, talk to Dean. Don't let this happen again, or I swear to you, Abs—"

"I know, I know." I cut him off, "You'll tell Dean."

He nodded, anger flashing in his eyes, "Exactly."

"I'll talk to you, I'll talk to Dean. "Hell, I'll talk to the Pope if needed." I said, seeing his face fall into a bitchface. My lips tipped up into a Cheshire cat grin, hitting his shoulder as I changed the subject, "C'mon. I want to see my kid."

Walking into the room, Sam and I halted upon seeing Dean fast asleep in the recliner chair. There was a pleasing sense of calm coming from him, finding myself smiling at how he slept. He was slumped in the chair, feet extended out with his arms crossed across his chest. It was almost comical to see him with his head tipped backwards and his mouth gaping open.

_It's a wonder he ain't swallowed a fly._ I thought, pressing my lips together in order to stifle a laugh. To back it up, I held three fingers against my lips in order to hide my 'possum smile. Despite the confrontation that had just happened between Sam and I, we were both in awe at how peaceful Dean was. It wasn't often we got to see him in such a relaxed state, it seemed to only occur when he was here with Megan. I glanced over to Sam, seeing his lips curved in a small smile before he raised his hand to knock on the door. Stopping him with a gentle touch, he gave me a quizzical look, and I just shook my head.

"Let 'im, sleep." I told him quietly, before walking into the room to peer into the incubator at my daughter. Glancing to the achievement board Ashley and the nurses set up for her, I read off each little thing she had done in our absence. Pride and guilt both flourished in my chest before looking down at the still form of Megan. Pushing my hair out of my face, I watched in silence as her chest rose and fell quickly with each breath, wires and IVs were still littered across her, though she was now dressed in a light pink preemie onesie that said, 'Daddy's Little Girl'. I couldn't help but grin at that.

Sam stood beside me, looking in at her as well, "It's hard to believe how big she is now." He said softly. The corners of my mouth twitched, falling into a small frown, "I mean, a pound and a half?" His shaggy hair swished as he shook his head, some of it falling over his eyes, "Now she's almost four pounds."

"Yeah, you can tell she's a Winchester." I mused, feeling overly guilty about her being born that small. From over where Dean was, we turned over heads upon hearing him jump with a loud breath being blown out.

"Jesus," Dean mumbled out, voice thick from being asleep as he scrubbed his face roughly with a hand. He straightened up in the recliner chair sluggishly, allowing me to move behind Sam, then went over to him with a small grin.

"Hey you." I greeted him.

"Hey you…" His eyes squinted at me then to Sam as he yawned, "When'd you guys get here?"

I shrugged, "A few minutes ago." With a simple nod, Dean stood up with a stretch before wrapping his arms around me in a tight squeeze, burying his face in the crook of my neck. Sam was probably rolling his eyes at us, though from what I felt from him, he was still upset from our argument. Pulling away, Dean reached up to take my face in his hands, placing a gentle kiss on my lips that only lasted a few moments, "How's Megan been?" I asked, after pulling away a smidge.

"Being a trooper." Dean said, "Had a fever of 101.2, but they got it to go back down." He added quickly, "Spitting up a little bit." His eyes went over to watch Sam reach a hand into one of the incubator holes to touch her hands with a smile. Wrapping an arm around me, we both watched him interact with her. He held a childlike wonder every time he was around Megan, and it was always one of my favorite things to watch while we were taking a break from hunting. "Nothing the nurses and doctors couldn't handle." Dean added.

I arched my brow at him, "Shoulda called." I said, seeing him tilt his head.

"Figured you and Sam needed to rest."

"I've rested enough," I gently nudged him in the rib with a playful grin, "besides, if I have to eat another can of Bobby's beans, I'm gonna turn into a blimp." A rumbling sound came from Dean as he chuckled, "You know."

"Oh God, don't remind me. Sam's gonna be strapped to the roof of the car next road trip we're on." He muttered, seeing Sam arch his brow at us. Apparently Sam had heard his brother's quip about his excess gas. Dean just grinned at him like he didn't say anything out of the way about him, hefting his shoulders into an innocent shrug as a good-natured laugh escaped from my mouth. A pile of newspapers on the sink caught my eye.

"You been lookin' for a job?" I queried, nodding my head over to them.

Dean turned slightly to look at the stack of folded up newspapers with numerous circles drawn on obits and headliners, "Yeah, found a few that might be worth lookin' into." We must've stayed in the room for a few more hours before the three of us decided to head to the Roadhouse and check on things.

* * *

**Harvelle's Roadhouse—Day**

Getting out of the Impala after a good, long drive with minimal stops, I rested my arms across the roof of the Impala whilst stretching my legs and back.

"I think we should check out Los Angeles, California." I announced.

Sam paused, curious, "What's in L.A.?"

"Young girl's been kidnapped by an evil cult." Dean answered for him, a smirk gracing his visage that I had found that article.

"Yeah? Girl got a name?" Sam asked.

"Katie Holmes." I replied earning a chuckle from Sam.

"That's funny. And for you, so bitchy." I opened my mouth for a comeback, but was interrupted by the sound of shouting voices and breaking glass, "Of course, on the other hand — catfight." Dean looked somewhat intrigued by what must've been going on inside as he wrapped an arm around my waist, leading us into the establishment in a rather cautious state.

Ellen and Jo were on the upper level of the bar, shouting at each other. And did I feel concern, anger, and resentment? Yes. Yes, I did.

"I am your mother, I don't have to be reasonable!" Ellen shouted.

"You can't keep me here!" Jo countered in an overwhelming sense of teenage defiance.

Ellen stalked down from the upper half of the bar towards her daughter, "Oh, don't you bet on that, sweetie."

"What are you going to do? Chain me up in the basement?" Jo snapped.

Ellen's blood pressure was rising as she spoke, along with mine as she scoffed, throwing down a chair as it clattered to the ground, "You know what? You've had worse ideas than that recently." She then lifted her hands up in a defensive manner, "Hey, you don't wanna stay, don't stay. Go back to school."

"I didn't belong there! I was a freak with a knife collection!" Jo shrieked out. I threw Dean a pensive look, who returned the same look before glancing over to Sam. He looked back to us with a frown, clearly uncomfortable by the show that was unfolding in front of us. This fight between the two only brought back vivid memories of the knockdown-drag out between Sam and John when he announced he was going to college. That was where he actually felt like he could fit in.

"Yeah, and getting yourself killed on some dusty back road, that's where you belong?!" Ellen shouted, snapping me from my thoughts as she turned around and paused upon seeing us, "Guys, bad time."

Sam nodded, "Yes, ma'am." He agreed for all of us.

Dean laughed uncomfortably, "Yeah, we rarely drink before ten anyway." I turned, ready to head back out the door. I was already getting uncomfortable from the whirlwind of emotions I was dealing with.

"Wait." I paused, looking over my shoulder to the fuming mother and daughter duo, "I wanna know what they think about this."

_Oh shit_. The door in front of me opened, causing me to step to the side as a family of four walked in; all wearing bright yellow shirts that read "Nebraska is for Lovers".

However, they paused after Ellen shouted out, "I don't care what they think!"

The father shifted, "Are you guys open?"

There was a curt reply from both women that was a mixture of Jo yelling "No!" and Ellen shouting, "Yes!"

I looked to the family sympathetically, "I think there was an Arby's down the road." I uttered softly to the pregnant mother as she nodded, ushering her husband and children out of the establishment. There wasn't enough time for someone to break the uncomfortable, heavy silence before the landline began ringing. Jo glared at it before glaring at her mother, who then stalked over to answer it.

"Harvelle's." Ellen answered, "Yeah, Preacher."

Jo spun around to face us as her mother had her back turned to us, "Three weeks ago a young girls disappears from a Philadelphia apartment." She shoved a file folder towards Dean, who looked at it uneasily, "Take it, it won't bite.

"No, but your mom might." He said reluctantly, throwing an uneasy look to Ellen. In turn, Jo turned her pinched look towards me, stilling holding out the folder. I raised a brow at how much jealousy and resentment I felt from her as Dean reluctantly took the folder.

"And this girl wasn't the first." She continued as Dean opened the folder and peered down at the image of a smiling blonde, "Over the past eighty years, six women have vanished. All from the same building, all young blondes." Her eyes slid over to me in a pinched looked, "Only happens every decade or two so cops never eyeball the pattern. So we're either dealing with one very old serial killer, or —"

"Who put this together?" I asked, interrupting her, "Ash?"

She smirked, "I did it myself."

Dean let out an impressed hum as he handed the folder over to Sam, "I gotta admit." He said, "We hit the road for a lot less."

"Good." Ellen piped up, "You like the case so much—you take it."

Jo spun around, "Mom!"

"Joanna Beth, this family has lost enough, and I won't lose you too; I just won't." Ellen's tone of voice was stated in a finality that allowed us to take the hint to leave. Tucking the folder under his arm, Sam led us out.

* * *

**Philadelphia, Pennsylvania—Day**

Sitting up front between Dean and Sam rendered me a nervous wreck. Philly wasn't the place for me to be at, which led to me to conclusion that Los Angeles would've been a horrible idea. My head was busting from the million or so people relaying their emotions back and forth at an alarming rate. From beside me, Dean would glance every so often as he drove down the street, concern trickling through me out of the million chaotic emotions I was dealing with.

_Feelings_._ Ugh_.

"How you holdin' up?" He asked, drawing me out from my messaging sessions.

I threw him a quick, tight-lipped smile, "'s all good."

Judging from the raised brow, he knew I was lying. He just didn't want to call me out on my bluff. Instead of doing that, Dean simply nodded his head, and pulled his right hand off the steering wheel to wrap his arm around me. Pulling me close, he sneaked a quick kiss to my temple in reassurance that I would be alright.

_If only he knew_.

Parking in front of the apartment building of our proposed case, courtesy of Jo Harvelle, we got out, walking into the building.

"I feel kind of bad, snaking Jo's case." Sam uttered as we stepped through the doors.

Dean shrugged, "Yeah, maybe she put together a good file."

"But could you see her out here working one of these things? I don't think so." I added as we pulled out our individual EMF readers. I smacked mine a couple of times due to it fritzing out on me then _caput_. I shook my head, irritated, however my spidey-senses were tingling.

"Any of you getting anything?" Dean asked in a low voice.

"No, not yet." Sam answered as I sent Dean an irritated look over my EMF finally crapping out. Tucking mine away, I heard the purr of Sam's, causing me to pause momentarily in the hall as my brother leaned over, "What's that?"

I came up behind him, searching for something, "What?" Jerking his chin to a hole in the wall, I saw what he alerted on. Black goo. An anxious wave seemed to have washed over me when I leaned closer, "Don't tell me that's—"

Sam reached out touching black goo, "Holy crap."

Dean joined us, spotting the goo instantly. Reaching out to touch it, he smeared it on his fingertips, looking equally confused and intrigued as Sam and I, "That's ectoplasm." _Great_. "Well, Sam. Abs, I think I know what we're dealing with here." I raised a brow along with Sam, waiting for an answer. "It's the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man."

Sam rolled his eyes while a loud, inappropriate combination of a snort and a laugh escaped me. Clasping my hands over my mouth and nose, Dean's childish grin widened more—even after Sam gave us both a chiding look. "Guys, I've only seen this stuff, like, twice."

"I mean, to make this stuff you have to be one _majorly_ pissed off spirit." I noted, seeing Sam nod in agreement. The wheels in Dean's head was turning in deep thought as he stared at the ectoplasm a second longer. With a nod in affirmation, he looked up to Sam, then to me, "Alright, let's find this badass before he snags any more girls."

Nodding, we made our way to leave the apartment and find us a motel room…that was, until we heard a pair of voices. Dean grabbed me by the elbow, pulling me against him as the three of us hid around a corner. As the voices came closer, Dean and I frowned at the woman's voice.

"Jo?" I whispered, feeling almost dumbfounded by the fact that she was here.

"Shouldn't she be at the Roadhouse?" Dean asked, seeing Sam shrug. We were all confused.

"It's so convenient." We heard Jo say.

"Yeah, it's a great building, fixed it up real nice." A man's voice replied, "All the apartments come furnished, too."

"It is so spacious." Jo answered, "You know, my friend told me I absolutely have to come check it out, and I have to admit, she was right. You did a really good job with this place."

Dean stepped out from where we were at with a confuse look, "What the hell are you doing here?"

Sam and I followed suit as a smile spread across Jo's face, "There you are, honey." She said while grabbing Dean by the waist, "This is my boyfriend Dean and his buddy Sam and his girlfriend, Abigail." I stood gob smacked, mouth hanging open in shock. I glanced to Dean who was standing rigidly beside Jo with his arms still outstretched at a slight angle; eyes bigger than dinner plates.

"Good to meetcha." He said with a chuckle, "Quite a gal you've got here."

Dean finally settled in to the charade with an uneasy laugh, resting his hand on her waist, much to her displeasure, "Oh yeah, she's a pistol."

For a split second, she narrowed her eyes at him, then smiled, "So, did you already check out that apartment?" We were all silent, "The one for rent."

Dean glanced to us then back to Jo, "Yeah. Yes. Loved it. Heh. Great flow."

"How'd you get in?" The landlord asked, obviously confused.

Dean shrugged, arm still around Jo, "It was open."

"Now, Ed, um, when did the last tenant move out?"

"Oh, about a month ago." He sounded a little chafed, "Cut and run, too. Stick me for the rent."

Jo laughed, "Well, _her_ loss, our gain!" I frowned at that small little detail. She shouldn't have said anything about the tenant being a 'her'. I watched she looked up at my boyfriend with a starry-eyed expression, "'Cause if Dean-o loves it, it's good enough for me." She said, earning an uncomfortable look from Dean.

"Oh, sweetie." Dean said in an overly sugary voice that suddenly made my blood boil. Apparently Sam had caught wind of my temper rising and gripped my elbow, throwing me a cautious look.

"We'll take it." Jo said suddenly. Sam and I looked at her with a surprised expression. Without another word, the landlord took the wad of cash Jo held up in front of him and left, leaving us to ourselves. An exceeding amount of cockiness was coming from Jo as she turned around with a smirk tugging at her lips as she held the apartment keys in her hands. Unclenching my hands, Dean stepped away from Jo, quickly falling into place with me.

"You gonna be okay?" I heard Dean whisper in my ear. I glanced up to him with an innocent, yet not-so-innocent look. I shrugged. "You turned at least fifty shades of red. I thought your head was about to explode."

I let out a snort, "I don't know what you're talkin' about."

Dean rolled his eyes, taking me by the waist as we paused behind Sam—Jo was already out the door, _thank God_—causing him to turn his head to the side out of curiosity at us stopping. His older brother jerked his head to follow Jo, wordlessly telling Sam that we were going to talk. With an understanding nod, Sam exited the building leaving Dean and I behind.

I closed my eyes in an attempt to calm myself down, if anything, sorting out the calmness that was coming from Dean, granted, it was more of smug amusement than anything else. Feeling his lips brush against the side of my neck, I tipped my head to the side with a loud sigh passing through my lips. A chuckle rumbled against my back as his arms wound around me tightly, swaying me back and forth in a reassuring manner, almost shivering when the abrasive scratch of his stubble scraped against my neck.

"I have to say Abs, being jealous is kind of a turn on." I heard him say, eliciting a quick laugh from me.

Turning around in his arms, I looked him in the eyes to see that childlike glint in his hazel eyes, "I am _not_ jealous, Winchester."

He grinned, "Oh really? You looked like you were about to rip Jo's head off."

I scoffed, wrapping my arms around his waist in a possessive manner, "I'm not jealous." I repeated in a haughty manner, "I'm territorial, that's all."

"Oh, territorial?" Dean laughed heartily, "That's a new one." We swayed in the hallway of the apartment with silly little childish grins and giggles, "It's a shame though."

I arched my brow, "What's a shame?"

A flare of mischief blossomed in my stomach, "I had the perfect opportunity to leave a hand print on Jo's ass." He started to laugh after I slapped him on the chest playfully, "What?"

"That's not funny," I stated with a grin that said otherwise.

"Of course it is, I'm hilarious." Dean retorted. I rolled my eyes at him, allowing myself to be pulled closer, if you could even say that, as he kissed me. Touching the sides of his face with just my fingertips, I kissed him back oh so tenderly. As he pulled away, Dean's eyes scanned my face; a whisper of a smile gracing his lips before he kissed me again, this time, deeper. With our tongues caressing each other, a low, rumbling sound resonated from him—a flame igniting in my stomach as the result of this 'infancy of intimacy'.

The sound of someone clearing their throat caused Dean to stiffen, agitated almost, making him pull away with closed eyes. Expecting Sam or Jo, we turned seeing nobody, only to turn around the other way to see an old woman standing in the hall with her Yorkie in her arms. Her brows arched at us with an unimpressed expression. That was just a rouse, in reality, from what I sensed, she was amused. I bit my lips, shyly looking away. Dean looked almost embarrassed, offering her a cheeky laugh.

"Oh, uh, sorry." He said sheepishly, taking me by the hand before he led me outside. Glancing behind, I saw the old woman and her dog. She threw me a wink as she walked by, giggling to herself. Gotta love old people, they're a hoot.

"Hey! You guys gonna help, or are you two gonna stand there and look dumb?" Jo's voice called out from across the street. The both of us turned, remembering the task at hand, which instantly cause a flurry of knots to form in my stomach. This was petty.

Throwing Dean a mildly exasperated look caused by Jo's expectant expression, I met his big brother look in play. "Be nice." He told me in a low tone.

I furrowed my brows at him, "I didn't say anythin'."

"I know your looks." He reminded, earning a playful eye roll as we walked across the street to help Jo and Sam carry our equipment in.

* * *

**Apartment—Day**

Upon walking into the apartment, Dean, Sam, Jo, and I set our bags down in separate areas of the room we were in.

Jo fixated on Dean with a grin, "I'll flip you for the sofa." She offered.

I rolled my eyes at her, coming close to speaking until Dean spoke, asking, "Does your mother even know you're here?"

"Told her I was going to Vegas." She replied, curtly, folding her arms across her chest.

"You think she's gonna buy that?" Dean asked.

Jo scoffed, "I'm not an idiot. I got Ash to lay a credit card trail all the way to the casinos."

_She's smart, I have to hand it to her. _Walking around the room, taking in everything around me, I leaned against the wall, "You know, you shouldn't lie to your mom." Jo and Dean turned to look at me. I saw Dean shoot me a warning glare, however, I fixated on the scornful expression Jo held when I spoke, "Shouldn't be here either."

"Well, I am. So untwist your panties and deal with it." Jo snapped. I blinked at her hostile behavior, more or less ready to come across the room and deal with her myself. As far as I know, I didn't do a _damn_ thing to her.

"Where'd you get all that money from, anyways?" Sam stepped in, eyes flickering over to me, _knowing_ that something was beginning to brew between her and me.

"Working, at the Roadhouse." She said holding her curt tone as she spoke.

"Hunters don't tip that well." Dean pointed out.

"Well, they aren't that good at poker, either." Jo pointed out as well, definitely not missing a beat. _She was a quick one alright_. We paused upon hearing Dean's cell phone ringing.

Before he could get a 'Yeah' out, Dean blinked a couple of times, "Oh, hi Ellen." Jo stiffened upon hearing her mother's name causing her to storm over to stand in front of Dean, who tightened his jaw, "I'm telling her." He hissed at her before they both had a furious, muttered argument before he straightened up, "I haven't seen her." He blurted out suddenly, then physically grimaced.

I blinked, glancing over to Sam, who held an equally shocked expression as well. _Dean's lying to _Ellen_? Seriously? Does he _not_ know what hell we'll_ all_ catch for not letting her know about Jo?_

"Yeah, I'm sure." Dean told her, continuing his lie, swallowing hard. "Absolutely." Hanging up the phone, Jo grinned at him cheerfully before she went to sit back down at the table. I shook my head at Dean. _This was unbelievable._ Yep, there was that little green monster, rearing its ugly head. I was jealous _and_ territorial; a deadly combination if you ask me.

Sometime after we all got settled in, I found myself pacing along the wall, phone plastered to my ear as I spoke to Ashley. I had been speaking to her for the past thirty minutes, oblivious to everything around me. Megan had been spitting up more than usual and was having diarrhea. Anything over her concerned me, which overly concerned Dean—plus he lying to Ellen added onto it. In the kitchen/dinette area, there were blueprints spread out across the table where Jo was sitting, flipping a small knife around.

"This place was built in 1924." She said suddenly, "It was originally a warehouse, converted into apartments a few months ago." I zoned out on what Ashley was saying, focusing on what Jo said.

Dean stopped, coming out from his thoughts, "Yeah? What was here before 1924?"

"Nothing. Empty field." She said, leaning in a chair.

"So, most likely scenario, someone died bloody in the building, and now he's back and raising hell." Sam summed up, earning a nod from Dean and Jo both while I continued to pace.

"_We're going to put her on some fluids, see if that should help her out_." Ashley said, causing me to stop listening to the boys and Jo's conversation.

"Okay, uh," I blew out a loud breath, running a hand through my hair, "Just let me or Dean know how she's doin' in a few. I appreciate it, Ash."

"_It's fine! I know you and Dean are busy with your jobs,_" Ashley replied.

"We hate leavin' her all the time," I said, earning an inquisitive look from Dean, Sam, and Jo.

With a shake of her head, Jo resumed talking, "I already checked. In the past eighty-two years, zero violent deaths. Unless you count a janitor who slipped on a wet floor." She narrowed her eyes at me, "Would you sit down, please?" I furrowed my brows at her, nonetheless, sitting down on the couch with the phone still plastered to my ear, barely hearing Ashley, "So, have you checked police reports, county death records..."

"Obituaries, mortuary reports and seven other sources." Jo was still twirling that knife around, which was beginning to irritate me, "I know what I'm doing." She told him.

I held my phone against my chest, "I think the jury's still out on that one." I said, staring at the knife with narrowed eyes, "Could you put the knife down?"

With narrowed eyes on me, we held each other's gaze with as much intensity, it could've started a fire halfway across the room. Dean and Sam shifted in their spots, throwing each other awkward looks, "Okay!" Sam said, breaking the tension, "So, uh, it's something else, then. Maybe some kind of cursed object that brought a spirit with it."

I rolled my eyes again, placing the phone next to my ear, "Yeah, I'm sorry, Ash. I got distracted for a second, what was that?"

"_I said, if things go good in the next few days, Megan might be able to come home soon._" My heart skipped a beat, "_I'd say within the next week, week and a half?_"

"You're shittin' me." I blurted out, unable to comprehend the good news. Dean and Jo stopped arguing, turning their eyes on me.

"What is it?" Dean asked. I waved my hand at him in a dismissive manner.

"_Yeah, she should be good to come home. If we can get everything situated with her fever, spitting up, and diarrhea, that is. If not, then it can extend her stay a little longer._" My leg started to bob up and down at a quick pace. It was unbelievable! By this time, Dean had crossed the room to where I was at, staring me down with concern and worry dripping off of him. Where Sam stood, he shifted around, glancing to me and his brother. Jo just watched, not really interested about what was going on.

Concluding my phone call with Ashley I hung up, slinging my phone into the couch. I hid my face in my hands, still trying to process the news. Beside me, the couch sank, feeling a hand find its way to my back.

"Abs, what's going on?" Dean's voice was thick with worry.

"Megan might come home." I said, straightening up. Dean stared at me, unblinking. The wheels in his head was turning as he processed what I said. Sam stood up from the table.

"What?" Dean and Sam asked in chorus.

I started laughing, becoming overly excited, "Megan might be able to come home soon."

Dean blinked, wordlessly pulling me into his arms. Burying his head into the crook of my neck, the warmth I felt from both Sam and Dean drove me to tears. I couldn't believe mine and Dean's daughter was getting ready to come home. All those sleepless nights, aimless walking around with a phone plastered to our ears, and countless nights in a NICU room were going to finally pay off. Dean's arms tightened around me before he moved his hands to my face. Staring into his eyes, tears sparkled like stars in the night sky, then kissed me in front of Jo and Sam.

As we pulled away, all smiles, Dean surveyed my face in search for more answers, "When does she get out?"

"Ashley said a week, week and a half maybe." I answered, "But that's only if they can get her fever and everythin' else calmed down." Dean licked his lips, nodding in understanding, already knowing that our daughter was going through a rough patch lately. It worried him. Hell, it worried me, and I knew it worried Sam.

From across the room, Jo coughed, in an attempt to throw Dean and Sam back on track. She was impatient; which was going to ruin her as a hunter. Well, the little gesture from Jo did get Dean's head back into the game, as well as Sam's. For me? I'd have to admit that it was half-assed.

Dean nodded once more, then stood up, "Alright, so, we're going to run EMF readers to see if we can get a bite." I nodded, standing as well, "Jo's gonna be with me." I blinked at him, possibly turning red with jealousy. Dean saw that, obviously. "Abs, stick with Sam."

Without a word, I nodded, glancing over to see Jo smiling smugly at me. This girl was starting to rub me the wrong way.

* * *

**Dean's POV**

**Apartment—Later**

I knew roaming the hallways with Jo irritated Abigail, but I knew that it was the only way we were going to get anything out of this job. It was obvious that the two of them had some kind of friction that would either make or break the hunt. Having Jo with me rather than Abigail reassured me that nothing was going to happen to Ellen's daughter—I was already going to be in deep shit _if and when_ she found out Jo was with us the whole time. The last thing I needed was for something to happen to her under my watch. As of right now, she was _my_ responsibility.

"So." Jo began, "You gonna buy me dinner?"

I looked up from my EMF reader confused, "What are you talking about?"

"It's just if you're gonna ride me this close it's only decent you buy me dinner." She said.

I snorted, "Oh, that's hilarious." We kept walking down the dimly lit hallway, glancing down to the meter every now and then, "You know, it's bad enough I lied to your mom, but if you think I'm letting you out of my sight... I don't know if you've noticed, but you're kind of the spirit's type."

A knowing smirk graced her face, "Exactly, and so is Abigail."

I blinked at her, stopping briefly, "You wanna be bait?"

"Quickest way to draw it out and you know it." Jo answered.

"Oh." I shook my head, earning a look from her.

"What?"

"I'm so regretting this." I breathed out, seeing a glint of anger in her eyes.

"You know, I've had it up to here with your crap." She said.

"Excuse me?"

"Your chauvinist crap—you think women can't do the job." Jo snapped.

I bit out a laugh, "Sweetheart, this ain't gender studies. Women can do the job fine—take a look at Abs, she's one of the best hunters I know." Her face turned red, "Amateurs can't. You have no experience. What you _do_ have is a bunch of half-baked romantics that some barflies put in your head."

"Now you sound like my mother." Jo scoffed out.

"Oh, and that's a bad thing? Because let me tell you..." I shook my head, rethinking what I was going to say. There were a million things I could've ranted and raved about. I mean, she was still young. She still had a _chance_.

"What?" She implored.

I shook my head again, "Forget it." I muttered, turning my back as I returned to doing the job. That was until she grabbed the back of my arm, stopping me.

"No, you started this."

Letting out a sigh, I glanced up to the roof, "Jo, you've got options. No one in their right mind chooses this life. My dad started me in this when I was so young... I wish I could do something else, like being the father I want to be to my daughter."

Jo looked me up and down, "You love the job."

"Yeah, but I'm a little twisted." I said.

She smirked, "You don't think I'm a little twisted too?"

"Jo, you've got a mother that worries about you. Who wants something more for you—those are good things." I told her, earning an eye roll from her, "You don't throw things like that away. Might be hard to find later is all I'm sayin'." There wasn't another word spoken between us until I heard Jo gasping out. I turned to look at her, seeing an alarmed expression, "What?"

"I'm not sure." She said.

A vaguely familiar smell filled the air. I sniffed the air a couple of times, "You smell that?"

Jo sniffed the air too, "What is that, a gas leak?"

"No," I said shaking my head, "Something else. I know it. I just can't put my finger on it." Jo crouched by the grating she was standing at; her EMF reader purred to life as she pointed it to the grating. I smirked, "Mazel Tov. You just found your first spirit."

Jo looked up to me, "It's inside the vent."

I crouched beside her, pulling out my flashlight and shined it, handing it over to her, "Here." I then pulled out a screwdriver and started to unscrew the grating, pulling it off the wall. Something inside it caught my attention, "There's something in there." I told her, "Here." Putting my arm into the duct, feeling around for whatever caught my attention. Finding it, I pulled my hand out, holding a clump of blond hair—bloodied. I frowned, showing it to Jo, "Somebody's keeping souvenirs."

This was beginning to form a knot in my stomach. I didn't like this—especially with Jo and Abigail being blondes.

* * *

**Dean's POV**

**Apartment—Morning**

I woke up in a twisted up, very awkward sleep-position in the bed that Abigail and I had acquired. Sirens sounded nearby, causing me to sit up with a grunt, seeing that Abigail wasn't in the bed with me. I scrunched my face at the absence of her, then felt an uneasiness that caused me to get out of bed in a hurried rush. Coming from the bedroom into the kitchen/dinette area, I saw Jo sitting at the table, twirling her knife and studying the notes and blueprints that had remained on the table.

Jo looked up from the table, smiling at me in an amused fashion, "Morning, princess."

My eyes scanned the apartment, "Where's Sam and Abigail?"

She rolled her eyes, "Went to get coffee."

"Ugh. My back—you were better off on the couch." I told her, approaching the table.

"I didn't even sleep on it. Just been going over everything." She said in a bored tone, "Abigail stayed up for a while last night." I nodded, considering something. I then reached for a bag, placing it on the table and pulled out a Bowie knife, unsnapping it from the sheath and handed it to her, hilt-first.

"Here."

Jo stared at the knife for a moment, "What's this for?"

"Works a hell of a lot better than that little pig-sticker you're twirling around." I told her as she took the knife, then handed me over hers. Holding it in my hands, I saw an engraving on the blade: W. A. H. I glanced up to Jo.

"William Anthony Harvelle." She answered.

I physically grimaced, "I'm sorry. My mistake." I said, taking my knife back, sheathing it.

"What do you-what do you remember about your dad?" She asked me, almost sadly, "I mean, what's the first thing that pops into your head?" I shook my head. I didn't want to talk about him. "Come on, tell me."

Lowering myself at the table, I clasped my hands together, "I was six or seven, and uh, he took me shooting for the first time. You know, balls on a fence, that kind of thing. I bulls-eyed every one of 'em. He gave me this smile, like... I don't know." I smiled at the memory. It was one of the few I could remember him being proud.

"He must have been proud." She said.

I looked up at her, "What about your dad?"

"I was still in pigtails when my dad died, but I remember him coming home from a hunt. He'd burst through that door like, like Steve McQueen or something. And he'd sweep me up in his arms, and I'd breathe in that old leather jacket of his." Jo smiled at the memory of her dad, "And my mom, who was sour and pissed from the minute he left, she started smiling again. And we were... we were a family." Her smile faded slightly as she came back to reality, "You wanna know why I want to do the job? For him. It's my way of being close to him. Now tell me what's wrong with that."

I shook my head, "Nothing."

"So…" Jo's demeanor changed suddenly, "You and _her_ are back together." She more or less stated, rather than asking. I straightened up in my chair, tilting my head at her.

"Yeah," I answered, nodding my head, "I guess you can say that."

Jo pursed her lips, "Why?"

I blinked at her a couple of times, "Why?" _What does she mean, 'Why?'_

"Yes, _why_?" Jo scoffed, the corner of her mouth tipped into a cynical smile, "I mean, why did you get back with her? After everything she's done to you?" I opened my mouth to speak, "And please, don't humor me with that 'Because I love her' crap. That's for romance movies."

I furrowed my brows at her, "I don't have to explain myself to you; you know that right?" Jo narrowed her eyes at me, "What I do with Abigail is none of your business. Whatever goes on between me and her is none of your concern."

She held her hands up, "Fine, whatever."

"Another thing," I added, "Whatever is going on between you and her—it needs to stop. Petty crap like that is what'll get you killed. Trust me, I know it first-hand." I had a feeling Jo was about to ask about it, and at that moment, Sam and Abigail burst through the door—_like Steve McQueen or something—_absent of coffee. They were breathing hard, like they had been running, "Where's the coffee?" I asked.

"There are cops outside." Sam told us.

"Another girl disappeared." Abigail finished.

* * *

**Abigail's POV**

**Apartment—Morning**

Sam, Jo, and I studied the notes and research we had laid out, a little more urgently than before. This entire apartment was giving me the creeps—even more now since another blonde had disappeared. Dean went out to find out more about what had happened, leaving the three of us behind for the time being. Jo seemed a little more withdrawn, jilted about something.

_Dean must've said something to her that pissed her off._ I concluded as I skimmed through another page. Dean came through the door a few moments later, shutting the door. The three of us straightened up upon his return, fixating on him to speak.

"Teresa Ellis, Apartment 2F." He said, "Boyfriend reported her missing around dawn."

I twirled a pencil between my fingers, "And her apartment?" Dean had crossed over to where I was sitting, placing his hands on my shoulders.

"Cracks all over the plaster, walls, ceiling—there was ectoplasm, too." Dean filled us in. If anyone thought I didn't catch the dark look Jo gave us, they'd be sorely wrong. I did.

"Well, between that and that tuft of hair I'd say this sucker's coming from the walls." Sam suggested, eyes falling to each of us.

"But who is it?" I asked, sounding miffed, "Buildin's history is totally clean."

Jo picked up a photograph, "Well, maybe we're looking in the wrong place." She sounded distracted.

Dean looked over to her, confusion whirling around in my stomach, "What do you mean?" He questioned.

"Check this out." She said, letting Sam lean over to look at the photo.

"An empty field?" Sam asked.

"It's where this building was built." She pointed to something else in the photo, "Take a look at the one next door. The windows."

His eyes widened, "Bars."

"We're next door to a prison?" I asked. They nodded. Almost instantly, Jo picked up her phone and dialed a number. Dean glanced to me, and I shrugged. A few minutes passed and we realized it was Ash.

"Thanks, Ash." Jo said, "And if you breathe a word of this to my mom..." She paused, listening, "That's right. I will. With pliers." I smirked at the threat that was hanging on her words. She hung up, "Okay. Moyamensing prison. Built in 1835, torn down in 1963. And get this. They used to execute people by hanging them in the empty field next door."

Sam nodded, "Well, then, we need a list. All the people executed there."

"Ash is already on it." Jo said.

Later, Ash came through with a list, emailing to Sam. He scrolled through them, "A hundred fifty seven names?"

"We've gotta narrow that down." I commented, sounding astounded at that many souls being executed.

Sam nodded, "Yeah."

"Or else we're gonna be digging up a hell of a lot of stiffs." Dean added. That was the _last_ thing I wanted to do. _Damn, cemeteries. _I glanced over Sam's shoulder as he came to a name, Herman Webster Mudgett. He clicked on it, frowning.

"Herman Webster Mudgett?" Sam voiced out.

"Yeah?" Jo said.

"Wasn't that H. H. Holmes' real name?" I asked.

Dean looked shocked, "You've gotta be kiddin' me." He came around the table to look at it, "Yep. Holmes was executed at Moyamensing, May 7, 1896."

"H. H. Holmes himself." Sam muttered, "Come on, I mean, what are the odds?"

Jo looked confused, "Who is this guy?"

I looked up at her, "The term _multi-murderer_, they coined it to describe Holmes." I explained, "He was America's first serial killer—before anybody knew what a serial killer was." Her brows raised at the information.

"Yeah, he confessed to twenty-seven murders, but some put the death toll at over a hundred."

"And his victim flavor of choice?" Dean reached out to pick up some of my hair, "Pretty petite blondes. He, uh, he used chloroform to kill 'em." I felt his uneasiness. He voiced it a few times, even more so since we tackled this job. What a time to be blonde again. "Which is what I smelled in the hallway last night." He added, "At his place, cops found human remains, bone fragments, and long locks of bloody blonde hair."

Dropping my hair, he turned his head to look at Jo, "Boy, you sure know how to pick 'em."

Jo shrugged, "Well, we just find the bones, salt 'em and burn 'em, right?"

"Well, it's not that easy." Sam told us, "His body is buried in town, but it's encased in a couple tons of concrete."

Jo scrunched her face, "What? Why?"

"The story goes that he didn't want anybody mutilatin' his corpse. 'Cause, you know, that's what he used to do." I told her.

"You know somethin'. We might have an even bigger problem than that." Sam said, earning a look from Jo.

"How does this get bigger?" She questioned. Smirking to myself, I think she was beginning to realize how much of a job this life is.

"Holmes built an apartment building in Chicago. He called it the Murder Castle. The whole place was a death factory, they had, uh, trap doors, acid vats, quick line pits... he built these secret chambers inside the walls. He'd lock his victims in, keep them alive for days. Some he'd suffocate, others he'd let starve to death." Sam explained.

"So Teresa could still be alive." Jo summed up, "She could be inside these walls."

Dean nodded, "We need sledgehammers, crowbars. We've got to smash these walls, anywhere thick enough to hide a girl."

* * *

**Apartment Building Walls—Day**

So it was my turn to babysit Jo. Dean was a floor above us, and Sam was on the first floor. They were calling every five minutes; especially Dean. Squeezing through crawl-spaces inside the building walls, which were fairly easy to do since we were most likely to get in and out quicker than Dean and Sam was.

"Okay. Call us after you check the southeast wall." Jo concluded, hanging up the phone, "Sam's almost done with the first floor. Hasn't found jack squat." She said from behind me.

"Alright." I said before I paused, feeling an overwhelming sense of unease coming from a narrow hallway.

"What is it? Too narrow?" She asked, peering around me.

I shook my head, "No, we can get through 'em fine, it's just—," My cellphone rang. It was Dean. "Hey, you."

"_Hey, you. I'm comin' to you girls_." Dean said.

"Dean, we're good." I told him, "Really."

"_Yeah, well, I'm not comfortable leaving you two by yourselves—especially since you two are basically askin' to be caught._" I snorted.

"Nothin's gonna happen." I shivered slightly at the anxiousness I was feeling, and frowned, glad that Jo couldn't see my face, "We're good down here."

"_Abs,_" Dean growled out.

"_Dean_." I returned the favor in the same tone, "I'm serious, we got it. We're fully loaded. We're grown-ups. We can tie our own shoes and everythin'." I mused with a lighthearted laugh, "Nothin' a pair of uteruses can do that a pair of balls can't."

"_Too late, I'm in the crawlspace coming to you._" Dean growled out, "_Stay put_."

I arched my brow at nothing, "Seriously, Dean?"

"_As a heart-attack. I mean it. Stay. Put._" He said before hanging up. I sighed, shoving my phone back into my pockets.

"What is it?" Jo asked.

I looked at her with a nonchalant wave of my hand, "Daddy Winchester wants to keep us where he can see us."

She let out a snort, "He's a little over-bearing, isn't he?"

"You just don't know." I muttered, "Heart's in the right place, his emotions…eh, they could use some work." That uneasy feeling got worse, like someone was watching us. I looked back down the hallway, almost entranced by the shroud of darkness that held onto the narrow hallway. There was something there—I could definitely sense it. It wasn't until I felt a firm hand on my shoulder, causing me to jump, whirling around considerably fast, despite the cramped space we were in, to see Dean, "Jesus Christ, Dean." I hissed out, throwing another look down the narrow hall.

"Sorry." He said, in a non-apologetic tone. Dean easily saw the narrow hallway from over me, letting out a breath, "Looks like the road ends here. It's too narrow." Jo got a little hotheaded at that, practically elbowing her way to the front, "Ow, hey!" Dean blurted out as she squeezed by, pressing him and me both against uneven rocks against the walls. Whatever uncomfortableness he was feeling, it doubled for me.

"Abigail and I can fit in there." Jo announced, upon inspecting the narrow space.

Dean shook his head vigorously, "Oh, no. No. The two of you are _not_ going in there by yourselves."

Jo turned back to us, "You got a better idea, macho man?" Dean fought with himself on a comeback, or a better idea. It fell flat. Jo smirked, grabbing my arm, "Yeah, you just sit here and think on that. We're going ahead."

Despite being drug by Jo, I slipped out of her grasp as she slid out of sight, "Abs," I paused, turning to look at Dean as he grabbed my elbow. I saw the troubled expression in his eyes when they would flicker after Jo, then fixate back on me, "Be careful."

My lips curved into a small smile, shifting towards him to press my lips against his in response to his words, "Always." I said, pulling back.

"Abigail, are you comin' or what?" Jo called out. I looked in her direction, then let out a sigh. I was with Dean on this one—it wasn't a good idea to go back there.

"As soon as you think things are about to go south, you get Jo and get out of there." Dean told me, firmly. Without a word, I nodded and squeezed my way through the tight space with Jo. The look in his eyes held an uncomfortable look, almost angry. After we got out of sight, my phone buzzed to life. Jo snorted as I answered it.

"_Where are you two?_" He inquired.

Jo and I slid further ahead, "On the north wall." I replied, coming to an air duct. I froze when she started to climb down into it, "Jo, what the hell are you doin'?" I hissed out.

"_What is it?_"

I shook my head, "We're gonna head down some kind of air duct."

"_No, no, no, no. Stay up here._" Dean said with urgency in his voice.

Jo motioned her hand for me to give her the phone. So I did, "Look, we've gotta find this girl, don't we? I'm okay, Abigail's okay—nothing's gonna happen." She paused, sliding down into the duct. I followed suit, and instantly regretted it as we came out into a similar space on a lower level. We tried to get down another narrow passageway, only for it to be impassable.

I heard Jo swear, when everything within me went of red alert. Black ectoplasm started to pour out from the wall crack around us with a sickening gurgling sound. "Oh God." Jo uttered, looking around, then at me, scared. I gripped her hand tightly.

"_Dean_?" I said loud enough to be heard on the phone, "Get over here, now!"

"_What is it? Jo? Abs? Guys_!" I heard Dean shout over my phone.

"Jo, get behind me." I instructed, keeping a firm hand on hers. The hairs on my arms and neck stood up. I didn't see him coming. Neither did Jo. Turning ever so slightly, we came face to face to the decrepit spirit of H. H. Holmes. Jo let out a scream. I blinked and Jo was gone; just like that. The only thing I had in my hand was her bracelet, my phone hit the floor with a thud.

"_Jo_!" I screamed out. My eyes were wide, as I tried to press on after her, only to fail due to the narrowness of the hall. I had nowhere else to go. I virtually became trapped like some kind of caged animal. I couldn't just let her be kidnapped by this thing! "Shit, shit, shit!" The longer I was there in the small space, the more I became worried and concerned and frightened for her, "Jesus Christ." I whimpered out, fighting off an angry onslaught of tears.

There was a loud smashing sound, Dean's voice yelling out for us, "_Jo_! _Abs_!" I cringed at the sound of Dean's voice. I winced when the sledgehammer broke through, sending a stream of light into the dark space.

"In here!" I called back, only to push Dean further into getting me out.

As many times as I've heard him shout my name, it was times like this, the tonality of his voice broke my heart, "Abs!" I saw Dean peering into the wall, deeply frightened. "Jesus, Abs!" He breathed out, "Stand back." With another few hits of the sledgehammer, he made the hole big enough for me to climb through, in which, he practically drug me through.

Stumbling back a few feet, Dean's arms had wound themselves around me in a vice grip—I thought he was going to break me in half—as he buried his face into the crook of my neck. The amount of fear that was coming from him left me speechless. That was only until he pulled back, clasping his hands onto either side of my face, "What the hell happened?"

I fought off another round of tears, "I-I don't know." I shook my head, trying to recollect my thoughts of what just happened. Being calm was not a thing that was going to easily come to me right now, "Jo and me were-were fine, then we got to that lower point—," My hands motioned back to the gaping hole in the drywall and plaster from where Dean had extracted me from, "We couldn't get through—it got narrower. Then ectoplasm started _pourin'_ out from the walls like you would a five gallon bucket full of water. I got her behind me, I blinked, and-and," I brought my hands up to cover my mouth. I couldn't breathe. Dean closed his eyes, angry at himself for not being there with us. After a moment, I let out a shaky breath, "He got her, Dean." I whispered out, avoiding his gaze, "It's my fault. I-I shoulda went down that duct first."

"None of this is your fault." He managed to bite out, "It's mine—I should've been there with you two." Looking up at him, he appeared torn. Deeply afflicted by the fact that he had lied to Ellen about Jo's whereabouts, "We gotta keep a clear head." I nodded. He didn't have to say anything else, for I was sure he already knew I could sense how he felt. He was already kicking himself for letting us go by ourselves, and scared for a number of reasons. Another second passed, then he grabbed me by the arm, pulling me back up the hallway. Time was running out for both Jo and Teresa.

It wasn't until we practically ran over top of Sam; who was making his way up to us. Sam stopped, "Whoa."

"He's got Jo." I panted out.

Sam gawked, "What? How'd that happen?"

"I didn't go with them." Dean said, "I should've been there." He got angrier by the second, "Dammit!"

Sam took Dean by the shoulders to calm him down, "Hey, hey. Look, we'll find her, alright?"

"Where?" He demanded.

"Inside the walls." Sam said.

I shook my head, "Sammy, we've been inside the walls all night." He looked over to me, "None of the other girls were there—she won't be either." There were about a million scenarios going in my mind—all of which, were bad. Sam, Dean, and I retreated to the apartment where Sam was trying to calm the both Dean and I down.

"Look. We've just gotta take a beat and think about this." Sam said, "Maybe we got Holmes' M.O. wrong."

"Yeah, well, we'd better fuckin' think fast." Dean muttered as his cell phone started to ring. A knot formed in my stomach as he answered it, "Yeah." He suddenly grimaced, "Ellen—"His mouth formed a thin line, not sure of where to start, "She's gonna have to call you back, she's taking care of, uh, feminine business." He made up. I furrowed my brows at him, earning an exasperated look from him. Dean grimaced again, then guilt finally broke him after Ellen, more or less, screeched out 'Where is she?!'

I took his phone from him, "Look, we'll get her back." I tried to take the heat off of Dean. It needed to be on me now more than anything.

"_Abigail? Get her back? Back from what?_" Ellen demanded.

"The spirit we're huntin', it took her." I answered truthfully, "I tried to keep it away from her; I really did. It's my fault."

"_Oh my god_." Ellen murmured, terror and concern in her voice. Sam and Dean stood in front of me, listening to the best of their abilities as to what Ellen had to say.

"She'll be okay, I promise."

Ellen scoffed in a disbelieving manner, "You promise." She deadpanned, "That is not the first time I've heard that from someone working with a Winchester."

I furrowed my brows, "What?"

"If anything happens to her..." She growled out.

"It won't." I said hurriedly, "I won't let it, Ellen. From mother to mother—nothin' will happen."

Ellen scoffed, "_From mother to _mother_?_" I grimaced, seeing Dean and Sam grimace at the tone of her voice, "_A _mother_ wouldn't let her child get hurt. A _mother_ wouldn't let her _child_ out of her sight! Don't you pull that bull shit with me, Abigail._" She growled out, "_I'm taking the first flight out. I'll be there in a few hours._" She hung up.

I inhaled deeply to prevent myself from throwing Dean's phone. Instead of me throwing something, Dean picked up a chair and launched it, "Damnit!"

Sam looked to both of us, "Don't beat yourself up, guys. There's nothing you could have done."

"Tell me you've got somethin', Sammy." I muttered, not wanting to hear the pity party from him.

"Uh, maybe." He pointed to a place on the map, "Look." Dean and I moved over to the table to look at where Sam was pointing, "You look at the layout of the Holmes murder castle, there's all the torture chambers inside the walls, right?"

Dean nodded, "Right."

"But there's one we haven't considered yet—the one in this basement." Sam pointed out.

"Sam, this buildin' doesn't have a basement." I said.

He glanced up to me, nodding, "You're right, it doesn't. But I just noticed this." His finger slid to another area, "Beneath the foundation, it looks like part of an old sewer system that hasn't been used for —"

"Let's go." Dean interrupted Sam as he grabbed his jacket and books. I shrugged mine on, following close behind with Sam trailing behind.

* * *

**Street—Day**

Following a trail with a metal detector and shovels in tow, we came to an open field until I stopped over one spot, the metal detector whining. I tapped the area with a shovel, "Here."

Dean dropped his bag and started to dig furiously. It didn't take half as long to dig with three people, because after some work, we were able to dig with our hands to uncover a metal trap door—which we pulled open. Dean handed Sam and I both a shotgun before taking one himself and a flashlight, then started into it. Instantly, that overwhelming anxious feeling I get slammed into me as we heard a scream. It was Jo's.

From where we came through, Dean and I rushed over to the gated door. I peered inside to see the same spirit—H. H. Holmes—standing by a metal box with a hand inside, "Hurry up, Sam." I hissed out as he picked the lock, throwing open the door as he finished, allowing Dean and I to rush in, shotguns raised.

I whistled, catching his attention just as Dean shouted, "Hey!" Just as Holmes turned to us, we fired, sending the bastard backwards and out of sight. We rushed forward.

"Jo?!" I called out.

"I'm here!" She called back from the box that Holmes was at. I went over to the box, peering in at her, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Dean found an iron bar leaning against a wall. I stepped to the side as he started to pry open the box as Sam investigated other compartments. Looking around, I waited for Holmes to show up. I was ready.

"We're gonna get you out of here, alright?" I glanced back, understanding who he was talking to; Teresa.

"Sam!" Dean handed the bar to him, turning back to the compartment, "Hang on." I helped Dean open the compartment to let Jo out. She grimaced, looking to each of us, "You alright?"

"Been better," She replied breathlessly, more than ready to leave, "Let's get the hell out of here before he comes back."

Dean glanced at me, "Actually, I don't think we're leaving here just yet."

Jo furrowed her brows, "What?"

"Remember when I said you being bait was a bad plan?" He glanced over to me, "Now it's kind of the only one we got." We turned to Sam, who had Teresa in his arms. He shrugged.

Jo glanced at me, almost terrified that it had come down to this, "Flip you."

I blinked, "What?"

"I said I'd flip you—we're both blondes," Jo pointed out.

"Oh, but no." I told her, shaking my head.

Jo scoffed, "And why not?"

"Because I said." I growled out, "I'm stayin' here as bait. You're goin'."

"Why do _you_ care?" She spat out, "Y'know what? I'm going to be bait whether you like it or not." As she started around me, I gripped her arm tightly, "Let me go."

I shook my head, "Not hardly. You're goin' with them." I motioned towards Dean and Sam, "_I'm_ stayin' behind."

Jo jerked away from me, fuming, "You all think I'm just some kid!" She accused, "I've done every bit of this myself before you three came along and took it!" Her eyes flashed in anger, "I can do this myself. I don't need _you_ preaching at me like you're my mother—you're not. Hell, I don't even know why you came back, after you abandoned them!" Jo swung her hand out to Sam and Dean; which, needless to say, pissed me off.

"Jo—," Dean growled out.

"I didn't abandon them." I told her coolly, "You can think whatever you want to about what happened between Dean and me, but it's none of your business." I advanced towards her, seeing her ready herself for a fight that wasn't coming, "I promised your mother nothin' would happen to you, and I'm keepin' that promise—"

"I don't care what you promise!" She yelled out, "I'm—"

"You're not gettin' hurt. You think you can do these things like I can, Shelby, but you can't!" I shouted out, only to pause, realized whose name I said. Jo froze, confused for the most part by what I said before Dean gently took her by the arm to usher her out of the way. His eyes fell on me. It only took a couple of minutes to get a plan worked up; fifteen to twenty tops to get the bags of salt tied up, another two for Dean's words of encouragement, which was him basically trying to talk me out of it and me reassuring him that I'll be fine.

So here I sat, in the middle of this decrepit chamber. Waiting. Watching. I wrapped my arms around my knees, breathing deeply and steadily to keep myself calm. From behind me, Dean and Sam were close by. I knew they were. Tensions where high, but I was a nervous wreck. The hairs on my neck and arms stood up, hearing the sounds of boots coming towards me. I squeezed my eyes shut. My heart was pounding in my chest like a ten pound sledgehammer. A part of me started to pray that this was going to be flawless.

"Now!" Dean shouted. I dove forward as Jo, Sam, and Dean fired at the several bags of salt, forming a perfect circle around Holmes, trapping him within it. I scrambled to get on my feet, having Dean pull me to safety as the angry spirit circled around, speaking gibberish and screamed out in terror.

"Scream all you want, you dick, but there's no way you're stepping over that salt!" Jo called out to him, as he turned, staring at her and me. I glanced over to her as she offered a soft smile, and I returned one as well.

* * *

**Sam's Point of View**

**Streets—Day**

Dean and Abigail left Jo and I to, more or less, guard the sewers. Looking down at the gaping entrance, I glanced up to Jo with a smile, "So? This job as glamorous as you thought it would be?"

"Well, except for all the pee-your-pants terror, yeah. Sure." She said with a shrug, "But that Teresa girl's gonna live a life because of us. It's worth it, isn't it?"

I nodded, "Yeah. Yeah it is."

We were silent for a moment. "Hey," She said suddenly, "What if somebody finds that sewer down there, or a storm washes the salt away?"

I smiled at her question since Dean, Abigail, or I had said anything to her about what we had planned, "Both very fine points. Which is why we're waiting here."

"For what?" Jo asked, completely confused. The loud beeping of a large truck backing up is heard. I turned, smiling as a cement mixer is backing into the field, stopping just over the sewer entrance.

"For that." I told her, waving to Dean for him to stop the truck, "Whoa!"

Dean and Abigail got out of the cab, the three of us set up the mixer right over the entrance.

"You ripped off a cement truck?" Jo asked incredulously as Abigail glanced at her with a smirk.

"We'll give it back," Abigail said, watching the cement pour on down the chute. She looked over to Dean with a grin, "Well, that oughta keep him down there till hell freezes over." Dean nodded in agreement, looking overly pleased about how the whole thing turned out.

* * *

**Abigail's Point of View**

When our task was done, both boys decided to leave me with Jo to return the cement truck.

We didn't speak for a few minutes; it kind of felt awkward.

"So…" I began, "Uh, I think I owe you an apology."

Jo looked over at me, giving me an onceover, "I think I owe you an apology. I was a bitch to you."

I smirked, "Not the first time someone's been one. It's fine." Jo blinked.

"Really?" She asked.

"Why yeah," I lifted my shoulders up in a shrug, "I'm usually the one callin' people out on their bullshit, but what can I say? You're as sharp as a tack, although you're stubborn as a mule…" Jo stared at me for a moment, only for me to smile, "but you're also tougher than a pine knot." I caught Jo smiling from the corner of my eye, "Even if you are a rookie."

She giggled, "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I mused, "You done pretty good."

"So…are we good?" She asked.

I thought about it for a moment, then nodded, "Yeah, we're good. Water under the bridge."

That night, we all sat in silence. Wedged between Jo and Sam in the backseat, Dean and Ellen were up front. I dared to speak, sensing the overwhelming tidal waves of fury come from Ellen. From up front, Dean glanced nervously to his right, then up into the rearview mirror at us. I offered a nervous smile, though it disappeared when Ellen looked to us from the corner of her eyes. This had to be the most quiet any of us had been since John had died.

"Boy, you—you really weren't kidding about flying out, were you?" Dean spoke finally in an attempt to break the tension. From Ellen's side, there's no reaction whatsoever; Sam, Jo, and I exchanged a couple of looks. "How about we listen to some music?" He suggested, flicking the radio on.

_You're as cold as ice..._I cringed at the words before Ellen reached forward and without as much as a word or breath, she flicked the radio off. The three of us exchanged another look as Dean glanced back at us as if for assistance. Neither of us made a move to speak. He sighs.

"This is gonna be a long drive." He muttered. I silently agreed, knowing that this was going to be a _very_ long drive indeed. Dean drove through the night, making it back to the Roadhouse by midday. As soon as Dean had stopped the Impala, Ellen had taken Jo by the arm, dragging her back inside—Sam, Dean, and I following behind.

"Ellen? This is my fault. Okay? I lied to you and I'm sorry." Dean said quickly, trying to reason with her, however, she remained impassive to his words.

"Ellen," I said in an attempt to help Dean, "Whether or not this helps, Jo did good out there. I think her dad would be proud."

It didn't help. Not one bit. Ellen glared at me, "Don't you dare say that—not you." I frowned, staring at Ellen like she had slapped me. From under her venomous gaze, I shifted uncomfortably, causing Dean to inch near me, "I need a moment with my daughter—_alone_." We went outside to allow the two women to sort out their argument without another word.

Outside, the three of us leaned against the Impala, awaiting for the knockdown drag-out to cease. We each brought up different possibilities of what they were fighting about—each making great possible answers. It was something very personal to Ellen; something that angered her, yet pained her at the same time. Something Jo didn't know about. As a result, I would grimace, clench my teeth, and ball my fists up out of reacting to their anger. To be honest, I think it freaked Dean out. He seemed a little tense just watching me.

"Hey. You okay?" He would ask, eyes focused on my hands and facial expression.

I blinked, unaware of what was happening, "Yeah, why?"

"You look like you're about to go a couple of rounds with somebody." Sam answered for him, causing me to chuckle half-heartedly, unclenching my fists. I looked down at them to see blood rushing back into my hands, shortly looking back up at the sound of the doors to the Roadhouse being slammed open with Jo storming out like a tornado. She glared at Dean, then fixated on me and kept stalking past. Dean and I glanced to each other, confused and unknowing of what was said.

"That bad, huh?" I said, feeling her anger spike.

"Not right now." She said brusquely.

Dean and I exchanged another look, "What happened?" Dean asked, only for Jo to ignore him.

"Hey, talk to us. What's going on?" I asked, only for her to jerk away when I reached out to touch her arm. Her anger was rising with each passing second.

"Get off me!" She barked out, causing me to take a step back out of surprise.

Dean and I lifted our hands in a defensive manner, "Sorry." Dean told her curtly, wrapping an arm around my waist, "See you around." We turned to head back to the Impala, where Sam was watching us curiously.

"Guys." We paused at Jo's words, "It turns out my dad had partners on his last hunt—two of them." She let out a harsh scoff, "Funny, he usually worked alone; this guy did too as well as the other, but..." Jo took a deep breath, "I guess my father figured he could trust them—big mistake. One of the guys screwed up—got my dad killed."

Dean looked at her confused, "What does this have to do with—"

"It was your father, Dean; and _hers_." She said with vehemence as she jerked her chin towards me.

I furrowed my brows at her, completely not understanding what happened. This was news to me. "What?" My voice was barely a whisper.

"Why do you think John never came back?" Jo asked Dean, who looked as shocked as I was, "Why do you think your parents never told you about us?" She asked me. My heart broke at the angry and lost expression Jo held in her eyes, "Because they both couldn't look my mom in the eye after that, that's why." Jo gave us both an onceover, letting out a rough sound, "A Winchester is always going to save a Colt—it makes sense since both of them were in the military together."

"Jo." Dean said gently.

She took a step back from us, "Just... just get out of here. Please, just leave." Dean raised his hands in a defensive manner once more, then gestured for me to follow him. I shook my head at him slowly, then gestured for him to go ahead. With a quiet nod, Dean kissed me on the temple before turning his back to Jo as he headed back to the Impala. Once he was near Sam, out of earshot, I turned back to her.

"Jo, please—," I began to speak and that was when somethin in her snapped.

"Abigail, don't you start." She bit out, "I've had it up to here with your good-girl bullshit. I know how you are."

_Okay, awkward._ "Excuse me?"

"What you done to Dean and Sam—" Jo shook her head, eyes flashing in anger, "You _left_ them."

I scrunched my face in confusion, not really understanding why we were back at square one, "Jo, what the-? I thought we got past this?"

She scoffed, "We're _so _not past this—you don't deserve Dean _or_ Sam. That little stunt you pulled back at the motel?" I furrowed my brows at her bringing up that mistake, "You know, the one where you pretended to drown to scare Dean? Bitch move."

Anger boiled in the pit of my stomach, "You don't know a damn thing about mine and Dean's relationship. What gives you—?"

"I know enough to say you're nothing but a bitch!" She snapped, "You weren't there after you and him split. You didn't see what kind of shape he was in." That honestly broke my heart to think about it, "What kind of person skips out on the ones they 'supposedly' love?"

"Enlighten me, Jo."

"A coward, that's who." She spat out.

"You don't know what we went through." I said coolly, "And I'm _not_ a coward." Jo's eyes went to the cloudless sky, another cynical scoff passed through her lips, "It's tragic that you lost your dad—it really is. I lost my entire family. Losin' them, then losin' John was just as bad. Someone once told me _long_ ago that they weren't gonna come back, and they aren't. I can deal with it."

"You might've lost your dad to a mistake that happened many years ago—you can be mad at the men who caused it, but I'll be damned to let you be pissed off at the two who don't deserve it." I said gesturing my head to Dean and Sam who were oblivious to our 'discussion'. I placed my hand on my chest, "I've made my mistakes—I live with them every day." I then pointed to her, "So when I tell you it's none of your business on what goes on between Dean and I, or Sam and I, hell for the three of us—" I took a step towards her, causing her to take a step back, "It's none of your fuckin' business." Jo's mouth gaped slightly, fighting with herself to speak. Her face was so red, I honestly though it was going to explode. So, when her attempt fell flat, I let out a silent scoff, giving her a quick onceover, "Nice chat, Jo. See you 'round."

Ending the argument, I turned on my heels walking back to the Impala where Sam and Dean were waiting.

"What'd Jo want?" Dean asked.

I shook my head, pulling an innocent look, "Ah, just girl stuff—nothin' that would be interestin' to you."

Dean pulled a face that meant he wasn't going to ask any further, motioning to Sam to get in the car. The ride back to Sioux Falls was silent, calm, but silent. The mood was lighter since we had been away from Ellen and Jo—their argument still ringing in our ears. Things felt like they were looking up for us as far as we knew. Sitting up front between Sam and Dean, I was in between emotions. The overbearing feeling of guilt that came from Dean magnified mine after finding out what had happened so long ago, but the feeling of excitement for my daughter's discharge was beginning to reign supreme.

All we could think about now was the countdown ticking in our heads about Megan's discharge.

* * *

**NICU—Early Morning**

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

After grabbing a few hours of sleep, the four of us made a trip to the hospital to see Megan. I, for one, couldn't wait to hold her in my arms again, especially with the news that Ashley had given me the other day. I mean, the possibility of bringing Megan home? That would be one of the best things to happen for us. Except, as soon as we hit the floor to the NICU, this overwhelming sense of dread washed over me. I didn't even stop at the washing station, which alerted Dean and Sam.

"Abs, what're you doing?" Dean asked.

I saw doctors running towards a room—Megan's room—as my mouth went dry. I started running with Sam and Dean right behind me, not listening to them calling out my name until I saw the doctors around Megan's incubator. A distant shouting was being heard with them yelling at the same time.

"What's happening with my daughter?" I asked them, panicking.

A nurse gently pushed me back, "You all need to stay outside."

I started to tremble, "Tell me what the hell is wrong with my child! I'm her mother!" I shouted taking a step forward to be near my kid, "I'm her mother, let me in there!" Someone was holding me back, causing me to try with everything I had the break away from the hold, but the restraint was too strong. A lump formed in my throat, feeling the urge to scream and shout and just cry. It wasn't long at all that I found myself feeling weak, and the next thing I knew I was on my knees.

I couldn't hold it in anymore. Tears slid down in hot, fat drops, "_Megan_!"

Dean was beside me on the ground, arms around me tightly. His lips pressed against my temple before he rested his forehead against the side of my head, "It's gonna be okay," I heard him whisper. I squeezed my eyes shut, "Everything's gonna be okay." He whispered again, this time his voice was strained, "Meg's gonna be okay." I wasn't sure if I believed him, like he believed himself.

An hour later, we were sitting against the wall as Dean never let me go. I felt this numbness consume my body, and from crying over and over, my eyes felt puffy. Sam sat on the other side of me, head leaned on mine with our fingers entwined. His eyes were red from crying, feeling just as helpless as we were.

"Dean? Abigail?" I heard Ashley's voice coming from NICU. The three of us were instantly on our feet as she came up to us, "Megan had an allergic reaction to the new medication we gave her. She's fine, but her fever isn't all the way down yet." Sam and Dean's hands tightened around mine, "Looks like her release date will be postponed until further notice. I'm sorry." As Ashley stepped towards me, I let go of the boys' hands, allowing her to wrap her arms around my neck, equally heartbroken about the news.

_I can't believe this was happening_. As we stepped back, I felt Dean slip his arm back around me. It didn't take a rocket scientist to say that one could sense his heart breaking due to the fact that his hopes were brought down. I mean, the way his face lit up the moment I mentioned Megan might be able to come home? _God I jumped the gun on that one._ Another barrage of tears hit me once again; it felt like they were uncontrollable.

Bringing myself to wipe away my tears after the millionth time, I looked up as I saw the head doctor, and I saw a familiar face, and with that playful wink in my direction. My breath caught in my throat, more like tightened, as they walked by. I stared him down, focusing more on him than what I usually did. There was something about this odd, winged man. Something off, something that felt familiar—comforting almost—as he paused, holding my gaze. A connection I was able to make with him, was that he only showed up during a crisis that involved me.

The longer I stared at him, the more I wanted to walk over to him and find out what he was doing her, the only thought I was able to comprehend was; _Help my daughter_. I didn't bother to break away from Dean and Sam to tell him, and like her heard me, he smirked and saluted me before disappearing into thin air. It always marveled me that this man was real, _if_ he was real at all. After a group of interns walked where he stood, I blew out a breath, "I'm sorry guys."

"Why?" asked Sam.

I forced myself to look to the quizzical expressions both brothers held, "Because y'all were so excited, and now I ruined it."

"Abs, this wasn't your fault." He said kissing into my hair, "Stuff like this happens." When I couldn't see him, he looked to Dean with a worried look, "Besides," Sam nudged me gently, "You said it yourself—she's a Winchester."

"One of the toughest." Dean added, "Definitely one of the toughest."

* * *

**A/N: Hi guys! After a month long 'Hellatus', I've come back. Things have been bad on the home front, however, they turned around for the best! I guess I can say I needed a little time to myself to focus on my family and school, and boy, did I need it! I deeply apologize for taking so long without any say, and I hope ya'll can forgive me! I hope this chapter is good for you guys, but I feel like it's missing an element that I'm not quite sure what it is. But I do feel like I got rusty. **

**Like I've stated previously in other chapters, I try my best to get chapters done in a week, week and a half depending on things around me. On this occasion, it took me longer. So, here's 'No Exit' (finally)!**

* * *

**I'd love to thank _Ladysunshine6_ for helping me out with this and writing the last part of the chapter, as well as offering suggestions. I couldn't get this done if it wasn't for her! So, check out her sister-fic, _Ain't Easy in the Big Easy!_**

**I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise.**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me or you can get a hold of me via Tumblr! I love receiving fan-mail for all three!**

* * *

**grapejuice101- Thank you! I'm glad you loved it!**

**ebonywarrior85- Thank you! It means a lot to hear that! (:**

**Guest- Thank you! Let me know how I'm doing in later chapters! (:**

**sarahmichellegellarfan1- Thank you! I apologize that it's taken me so long to get this chapter out! I hope you enjoyed it! (:**

**angelicedg- Awe, thank you! I definitely know what you mean! Things are starting to look up for me now, hope everything has been good on your end! (:**

**SassyGrl23- Great! I love to hear that! Happy belated birthday to you!**


	11. The Usual Suspects

_Here's to us_

_Here's to love_

_All the times_

_That we messed up_

_Here's to you_

_Fill the glass_

_Cause the last few nights_

_Have kicked my ass_

_If they give you hell_

_Tell em to go fuck themselves_

_Here's to us_

_Here's to us_

* * *

_**Two Days Ago**_

**October 22nd****, 2006**

**Café—Morning**

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

Dean and I sat outside at a café table waiting on Sam to return with our drinks. The sun was out, little to no clouds in the sky, and birds were chirping. Beside me, Dean had been reading a newspaper; the headline reading, _Man's Throat Slit Without a Trace_. For the past couple of minutes, he had been super quiet, reading. From what I've been sensing from him, and the fact he was becoming engrossed in the paper, I had the feeling he found a job.

I pursed my lips at him in a mischievous manner, "So I had this interestin' dream last night."

"Mhmm." Dean hummed, "Great." He mused, acting like he heard me.

"Yeah, it was great." I said dreamily, "Zak Bagans professed his eternal love for me. We had a beautiful, passionate night, then we got married, and had three kids."

Still side-tracked by reading the newspaper, Dean nodded distractedly, pursing his lips as he read on, "Sounds like it was a fantastic—" He scrunched his face upon realizing what I had said, then looked at me with furrowed brows, "Wait, what?"

I grinned at him, seeing Sam come to the table with a holder containing three coffees, "Shoulda been listenin'." I retorted, leaning over in my chair to kiss him on the cheek as he sat there looking genuinely confused. Sam, who had been listening, shook his head with a grin as he sat our coffees down in front of Dean and me.

Snickering, he kept his coffee in his hands, "So, what's got you so interested in this paper?"

Dean handed over the paper to Sam, "Anthony Giles." Dean said. I picked up my coffee, taking a tentative sip in case the drink was hotter than forty hells. In which, it was. I pulled the cup away from me quickly, scrunching my face in irritation over my mouth being scalded.

"Who's Anthony Giles?" Sam asked, looking at the newspaper confused.

"He's a Baltimore lawyer." Dean replied, taking a large swallow of his coffee unflinchingly, "Working late in his office," he gestured his hand for Sam to read it, "Check it out."

"Uh...throat was slit, room was clean." He read aloud, "Huh. No DNA, no prints."

Dean smiled, "Keep reading, it gets better."

Sam peered down at the paper, "Security cameras failed to capture footage of the assailant."

"So I'm thinking either somebody tampered with the tapes—"

"Or it's an invisible killer," I mused, catching Dean's head nod in agreement.

"My favorite kind." He said, "What do you think, Scully? You wanna check it out?"

Sam frowned, "I'm not Scully, Abigail's Scully—she's a girl."

Dean shook his head, "Nope." He told Sam popping the 'p' as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, "She's sitting out on this one," Coffee in his hand, Dean pointed to Sam, "So that only leaves you." Sam blinked, half-surprised that I was staying behind, but understood why. "Which makes me Mulder." Dean carried on, "_You're_ a red-headed woman."

I snorted at the two boys' arguing about who got to be who from _X-Files_, "Ya'll would be brokenhearted if I _did_ go."

Dean and Sam arched their brows, "And why's that?" Dean challenged.

I smirked, "Cause I'd be Skinner."

"No, in that case, _I'd_ be Skinner." Dean jested.

"What makes you think you can be Skinner?" Sam chimed in incredulously, "I can be Skinner if I wanted to."

Dean puffed up like he usually did to make a point, "'Cause I'm the oldest, and that makes me the boss."

I flashed a grin at them before checking the time on my watch, "Well, ya'll can debate on that one, but _our_ Skinner's waitin' on us." I said standing up from the table with Dean and Sam following shortly after.

"You do realize I'm not letting you watch that stupid show ever again, right?" Dean said, coming up behind me.

I had to laugh, "So you _were_ listenin'," I said throwing him a mischievous grin, "_That's_ a first."

"Of course I listen." He let out a playful scoff, "Why wouldn't I listen?"

"Because you don't half the time," Sam piped in with a knowing smirk.

Dean turned his head with an incredulous expression painted on his face, "I listen!" Sam and I arched our brows at him, then he scratched the back of his head with a sheepish look, "Sometimes. But I'm serious about you watchin' that stupid show!"

"Zak Bagans is _life_." I said in a serious tone, arching my brow at him.

Dean rolled his eyes as we crossed the street to the hospital, "Underneath all that glitz, he's just some jerk pretending to be something he's _not_."

"So is Dr. Sexy M. D." I shot back.

"Don't you talk about him like that!" He said defensively, then glanced to Sam, who was staring at him, astonished. Dean cleared his throat, "Not that I watch it all the time or anything…" Sam smirked as Dean jerked his thumb in my direction, "Not like her freak obsession with some guy on the Travel Channel."

I shoved Dean playfully, "Hey, short bus! You tell me each corny line Dr. Sexy speaks when you try—"

"Okay! Okay!" Sam interrupted us, waving his hands around his ears, "I get it. You two have weird, TV-star obsessions."

Dean and I exchanged a glance, "No, we don't." We glanced at each other again, "Shut up." Dean furrowed his brows at our words, "Seriously, _shut up_." This time _I_ furrowed my brows at him, "Okay, this is awkward."

"Yeah, okay." Sam laughed out, "Ya'll figure out what you want to do, I'm heading on up." He walked ahead of Dean and me as we proceeded to carry on our good-natured argument about television stars. Getting to the sanitization station, we washed our hands and arms, then went to Megan's room, ushering our hellos and whatnot to other families that we had gotten to know since Megan's birth.

One family in particular, the Durham's, stopped us, at least the mother of the little boy preemie did, "Hey, Abigail!"

I paused, seeing Jill Durham poking her head out of her baby's room, "Oh. Hey, Jill."

"You staying for a while?" She asked. Dean and Sam had stopped ahead of me, watching. I threw them a glance, then looked back to her with a small smile.

"Yeah," I replied, nodding, "As a matter of fact, I am. Got some time off at my work."

Jill's smile widened, "Oh, that's good! Hey, listen!" She stepped outside of the darkened room, leaving one hand on the door knob, "I'm throwing a small party today; nothing huge, you know? Darren's coming home later today."

"Darren's coming home?" Dean asked, coming to my side, earning a short nod from Jill; who was practically beaming. Despite the twisting and knotting up of Dean's mild jealousy in my stomach, we both smiled at her baby's success, "That's… great." He added, weakly.

"Are you guys off work too?" Jill asked, looking over to Dean then finally Sam.

Dean let out a forced chuckle, "Unfortunately, no." He told her, "Gotta keep bread on the table and pay the bills." Jill looked over to Sam, who shook his head with a small smile.

"Same here, but congratulations." Sam replied.

"It's totally understandable," She said, before looking over her shoulder into the room, "I gotta go, Darren's up. See you then Abby!" Nodding, the four of us parted ways, walking inside Megan's room. Being the first into the room, Sam had the incubator door opened, carefully getting all the cords and things attached to Megan before he had her in his arms. I smiled knowingly, feeling the warmth and ease come from my daughter.

"Hey, pretty girl." Sam said to her with a big smile, "You know your Uncle Sam's got you, don't ya?" He murmured, carrying her over to the nearest seat and sat down, holding her close to his chest. Sam's shaggy hair covered his eyes for the most part so I couldn't exactly see his expression that well, but every bit of him read excitement and love. Megan was pretty quiet, keeping her eyes closed as he touched her still-tiny hand with his forefinger, then a rumbling chuckle came from him, "I see you peeking. You're as bad as your dad."

Dean let out a snort, "Yeah, right."

I nudged him playfully, "He's tellin' the truth, sweetie." My bow-legged beauty raised a brow at me, "What? You're horrible at tryin' to pretend you're asleep." Dean rolled his eyes reclining back into his chair until his legs were sticking straight out and the toes of his boots were pointed up. He was jealous to not get to Megan first; it was always a race between the two of them to see who could get to her first. In this case, Sam won and he was reaping his rewards.

"I can't wait for those stupid things to be taken out of her," Dean blurted out, motioning to the cords that were carefully draped over Sam's arm, "They _can't_ be comfortable."

"I second that motion." I mused, seeing Sam look up to us, then back down to Megan as he nodded in a solemn agreement. The head doctor over her had said it would be another week before she could be discharged where she's still so little, "This week literally couldn't be over quick enough."

"You're not even kidding," Dean sat up in his chair, watching Megan closely when she popped her hand into her mouth, "I say we take a long break after this." He suggested, earning curious looks from Sam and I. Dean shrugged half-mildly, "You know, so that when Meg does get out of this place, we can _all_ keep an eye on her—even Bobby."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "I mean, Bobby's already done so much for us." Sam said, looking up to Dean.

"Letting Abs and I convert a room into a half-bedroom, half-nursery was something he didn't have to do." Dean ran a hand over his face roughly, "At least it's something for her at the moment." I took his hand in mine squeezing it ever so slightly in reassurance, "Then when she's old enough to get out and about, that's when she'll be going with us—" He paused when I gave him a dark look then cleared his throat, "On occasion, that is." He then added.

"I think it's great you two are wanting to give Megan a normal life," Sam said, "But, how are you guys gonna do it when she gets old enough to start school, and starts asking why we live in motels?" _That_ sparked an ember of doubt in my stomach. When Dean tilted his head forward, then glanced to me from the corner of his eyes, I knew then and there, he didn't have a plan. He hadn't gotten that far. It was all about the _now_.

"One day at a time, little brother." Dean said, "Megan's still a baby."

"But not for long." Sam stated. Dean shifted beside me, uncomfortable at that thought. Megan was growing like a weed, that part was _very_ clear. She was getting bigger and bigger each day, always improving by the minute, and doing something new every day. For the past few days, since our near heart-attack with her allergic reaction, our daughter had been more alert and less sensitive to the light. She'd peek more often, and my God, her lungs worked _fine_. She could shatter glass if we let her. Megan Daniella is definitely the miracle baby in this NICU.

"I know it," I heard Dean murmur, breaking me away from my thoughts. The low rumbling sound of his voice hid a blurb of solemnness, which made me stroke the back of his hand with my thumb. We had already missed out on several milestones of our daughter's life, such as having her weaned off the oxygen, having a few annoying cords taken away, and a few mentionable others. Slipping his hand away from mine, he hoisted himself out of the chair with a grunt as he stood up and crossed the room to where Sam was at. Being impatient in nature, he'd been impatiently patient long enough. The way he walked over to Sam was rigid, acting as if there were a countdown to when they needed to leave for Baltimore. This had been the first job in almost a month where they would go it alone without me, granted, they were perfectly capable of functioning without me. They'd proved it several times. It took longer, and they always came back pretty beat up from a tussle.

Sam switched places with his brother, the both of them carefully handling Megan as if she were porcelain, then crossed the room to sit beside me. We watched as Dean held Megan against him. Underneath the smile that had spread across his visage, Dean held a troubled look in his eyes. I could almost hear the wheels in his head turning, trying to form some kind of plan for us. Sam was quiet, observing his brother. It was apparent that he knew the weight of the world sat firmly on Dean's shoulders—it was always like Dean to think that way. After all, Dean was John's little soldier. Failure was something that scared him—_infuriated_ him to say the least—and the thought of failing to keep Megan or Sam or I safe wasn't an option in his book.

I hummed to myself, piquing Sam's interest. I shook my head smirking when he looked at me curiously, "What is it?" He asked.

"It's nothin'." I answered in a low tone, waving my hand at him dismissively.

Sam's brows scrunched, "What is?"

"Big, bad hunter is a big ole teddy bear." Sam grinned, seeing Dean glance up from Megan with an arched brow. A grin of my own spread across my face when the corner of Dean's mouth twitched into a smirk.

"Very funny guys." Dean told us, situating Megan so that she was resting on his chest, "We're in _stitches_ right now, aren't we, Megan?" From where we sat, Sam and I's hearts had melted into a large puddle when a large grin splayed across Megan's face. At that very moment, Dean's barriers had crumbled allowing himself to show how vulnerable he could be. The corners of Dean's eyes crinkled when he chuckled, flashing his daughter a genuine Dean Winchester smile before tipping his head forward to plant a gentle kiss on top of her head. Cautious of the cords still attached to her, he wound his arms closer around her so that very little of Megan's body was visible to Sam and me; a tiny foot was all that I could see poking out from under Dean's jacketed arm.

Winding my arm around Sam's, I leaned against him, resting my head against his shoulder, I leaned into Sam, snaking my arm around his, smiling, "I have to admit, Sammy, being a dad suits him."

"Yeah, no kidding." He replied in a gentle tone. We watched as Dean slowly rose to his feet and paced near her incubator murmuring endearing words to her. The low _thunks_ of Dean's boots hitting the floor with each step he took resonated throughout the room. He'd glance up every now and then to us, grinning like a well-fed 'possum before he'd turn his back to us murmuring more words to our daughter, "I don't think I've seen him this happy in a while."

I merely nodded at Sam's words. Dean loved his daughter with every fiber in his being; I didn't have to be an empath to know that. It was written all over him when he spoke about her, looked at her when he held her, and when he would watch me or Sam with her, "It makes me wish I can turn back time so that everything bad that's happened to us lately, has never happened, you know?"

Sam's chest rumbled, "That's what makes us stronger. We learn from them."

"That we do, Sammy." I replied, "That we do."

Dean glanced to his watch before he cleared his throat, "As much as I hate to do this kiddo," He bowed his head to speak to Megan, "Dad and uncle Sam have to leave if we want to make it to Baltimore by tomorrow evening." My heart sank slightly out of dread. I wasn't sure if it was mine or Dean's, "So don't give your mom any problems, alright? I'll be back before you know it."

On cue, Sam and I rose to our feet. I crossed over to Dean as he paused briefly to place a kiss on Megan's forehead. For the most part, she was quiet when he handed her over to me. Sam came over to us slowly, bending forward to place another kiss on top of her head as well, "Be good for your mom, Megan." He said lightly, then straightened up, looking to Dean.

"Uh, head on down." Dean said, "I'll be right behind you."

Sam nodded, "See you in a few days, Abs."

I wrapped an arm around him in an awkward single-armed hug, "Be careful, Sammy. Keep this'n in check."

Sam chuckled, "Of course."

Dean rolled his eyes at us, "Why is it always me that needs to be looked after?"

"Cause you're the one that gets in trouble the most." I countered, seeing his shoulders rise in a shrug while pulling a face. Sam ruffled my hair after placing a gentle, brotherly kiss on top of my head, making me swat at his hand. With a grin, Sam left the room laughing as he headed out to the Impala. Since we were alone, Dean closed his eyes, hung his head and let out a loud breath. He didn't want to leave. "Dean, everythin's gonna be alright." I said, meeting a pair of distressed hazel orbs.

"Yeah, I know." He replied, "I just…I don't know, Abs…" Dean was fighting with himself over his emotions, "Leaving you behind with Megan…I mean, anything could go wrong without me here."

I offered him a reassuring smile, "But it's not. We're at a hospital, Bobby's not even fifteen minutes away." I told him, placing my freehand against his cheek. Dean leaned his head into my touch, keeping a firm gaze on me.

"I don't even know how long this job's gonna be." He muttered.

I smirked, "We usually don't until it's done." Dean nodded sullenly, "Call me later?"

For a moment, Dean's eyes sparked to life with a mischievous glint, "Of course." His lips curved into a smirk, "Just to make sure you're not with your fictional boyfriend or anything." I let out a snort at his jest, seeing him grin at me.

"It's a weeknight, thank you very much." I retorted, "Ghost Adventures don't come on until Saturday."

Dean just rolled his eyes at me in response, "I'm surprised you don't know where he lives."

"Well, I—."

He shook his head, "Forget I said that."

"You're a shithead, you know that right?" I deadpanned, seeing his grin widened (if it could).

"You love me." He stated in a matter of fact tone.

I nodded, "That I do."

Dean then fell silent, jaw set as he turned his gaze to Megan, "I really don't want to leave you two."

"But you got to."

"Yeah…" His voice trailed off, "I know…" He took another deep breath, forcing himself to need to leave after checking his watch once again, "Sam and I are going to do our best and be back before Megan is let out of the hospital."

"Okay." Procrastinating about his departure, Dean rested a hand on the side of my face after brushing away a few tendrils of hair. His eyes scanned mine for a moment, drinking in my appearance that consisted of me holding our baby daughter, dressed in his _Metallica_ shirt with a plaid button-up, and a pair of shorts, while my hair was in a disheveled bun.

I felt my face burn with embarrassment, something that usually happened when he took a moment longer to stare at me. To be honest, I felt like I was eighteen again when he done that. As close as we were, Dean dipped his head down, while I tipped mine up meeting him halfway. We weren't quite kissing, it was more like hovering, being a breath away from doing so. It was almost like Dean's signature kiss before he had to leave.

Another second passed when we closed what distance we had. The kiss itself was slow and deliberate—just how he liked it as he let his hands move from my face, down my shoulders and arms, until they were on my hips. Keeping his head level with mine, he pulled back, opening his eyes to take another good look at me before flickering down to my mouth once again. This time, I closed the distance between us in which Dean was more than obliged by me taking the reins.

With a freehand, I slid my hand down Dean's front, feeling the ridges and valleys of his torso from under his shirt. Our mouths moved against each other, allowing our tongues to entwine and dance. There was a small flare of heat forming a knot in my stomach; a delicious, familiar knot that lit my skin afire.

After a few minutes of heated kissing, _Ramble On_ started blaring. Dean stiffened, another kind of knot formed in my stomach—irritation and dread—that caused us both to reluctantly pull away from each other by just a hair, "Sam?" I whispered.

Dean nodded, "Yeah. Probably thinks we're having sex." We shared a grin before pecking each other's lips in quick succession and finished it with a long, drawn out kiss. Pulling away for the final time, Dean brought a hand up to my face, trailing his fingertips along my cheek, "I guess that's my cue to leave then."

"I guess so." Dean was silent, stroking my face tenderly, "You okay?"

Dean blinked, realizing he had spaced out, "Uh, yeah. Yeah. I'm good." He bent forward to plant another kiss on top of Megan's head, "I love you, kiddo. Be good for your mom." My heart leapt at hearing those words ushered to Megan. They didn't just come out willy-nilly, and it took a great deal of fighting to even convince them to come out. Sure, Dean and I had our own way of saying it, or expressing it, or whatever, but to hear them? It took my breath away; especially since those words were directed towards our child. He looked to me, kissing me one last time, "I love you, Abs."

I could've melted into a puddle, instead, I nodded, "I love you too, Dean." I wrapped an arm around his neck, feeling him entwine his around my waist before we stepped apart, "Be careful, alright?"

He threw me a smirk, "Always, sugar-pie."

I held Megan against me as I smiled, watching him leave.

* * *

_**Two Days Later**_

_**Sam's Point of View**_

_**Interrogation Room-Day**_

_**October 24th**__**, 2006**_

Separated from Dean, I paced by the window inside the interrogation room, often glancing outside. I paused when the policewoman, Officer Ballard, entered and watched as she placed a cup of coffee on the table.

"Thought you might be thirsty," she told me.

"Okay, so you're the good cop." I stated, throwing my arms out to the side, ignoring the act of kindness she was showing me, "Where's the bad cop?"

"Oh, he's with your brother." She prompted, causing an uneasy feeling to go through me. All I could really think about was what the other cop doing to my brother? What could they possibly be holding us here for? What if Abigail found out? What would she do? There were about a million unanswered questions as to why this was happening.

I needed answers, "Okay," I stated, "And you're holding us _why_?"

"Well, he's being held on suspicion of murder." Ballard said in a matter of fact tone, "And you," She gestured to me, "we'll see."

It took me a moment to register what she had said, causing me to lean forward, feigning shock, "Murder?!"

"You sound genuinely surprised." Ballard commented, "Or are you that good of an actor?"

"Who was he supposed to have murdered?!" I asked incredulously.

"We'll get around to that." She said patiently.

I scoffed, "Well, you can't just hold us here without formal charges!"

"Well actually, we can—for forty eight hours—but you being a pre-law student, would know that." Ballard said, "I know all about you, Sam." I watched as she opened a file, "You're twenty three years old, no job, no home address. Your mother died when you were a baby, your father's whereabouts are unknown. And then there's the case of your brother Dean. Whose demise was, well, just a little bit exaggerated. Feel free to jump in whenever you like." I leaned against the wall, folding my arms across my chest, "Shy? No problem. I'll keep going." She continued, "Your family moved around a lot when you were a kid. Despite that, you were a straight-A student. Got into Stanford with a full ride." Ballard closed the file, "Then about a year ago there was a fire in your apartment. One fatality. Jessica Moore, your girlfriend. After she died, you fell off the grid. Left behind everything."

I shrugged, "I needed some time off. To deal. So I'm taking a road trip with my brother." I had to keep Abigail's name out of this. If I had let it slip she was hanging around with us, as well as having Megan…things would get from bad to worse in no time.

"How's that going for you?" She asked in a mocking tone.

"Great." I replied in a dry tone, "I mean... we saw the second largest ball of twine in the continental US. _Awesome_." I walked from the wall to the table where I pulled a chair up and straddled it.

"We ran Dean's fingerprints through AFIS." Ballard said.

I nodded, "Okay."

"Got over a dozen possible hits." She stated.

"_Possible_ hits—which makes them worthless." I said.

"But it makes you wonder. What are we gonna find when we run your prints?" She asked.

I let out a haughty breath, "Yeah, well—" I pounded my fist on the table sarcastically, "You be sure to let me know, alright?" I then pointed to the cup, "May I?"

Ballard extended her hand to it, "Please."

I gave her a tight-lipped smile, "Great." I picked up the cup, sniffing it gingerly as she leaned over me with an intent look.

"Sam, you seem like a good kid." I mentally rolled my eyes at her words. This was way overplayed, "It's not your fault Dean's your brother. We can't pick our family. Right now detectives in St. Louis are exhuming a corpse. They're trying to figure out how your brother faked his own death. After torturing all those young women. Dean's a bad guy. His life is over. Yours doesn't have to be."

Taking the cup away from my lips, I gave her an incredulous look, "You want me to turn against my own brother?"

Ballard shook her head, "No. We already caught him cold. Red-handed at the Karen Giles murder scene. We just need you to fill in some missing pieces."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I can talk to the DA. Make a deal for you." She said, trying to coax me into turning on Dean, "You can get on with your life. Dean's as good as gone."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. _Think, Sam. Abigail's not here to bail us out,_ "My dad and Tony Giles were old friends. They were in the service together. We've known him since we were kids, you know? So we came as soon as we heard about his death." Ballard nodded, taking notes, "Woulda been kinda hard for Dean to kill Tony, considering we weren't in town at the time." Which was true. We weren't. We were still in Sioux Falls with Abigail and the baby.

"So tell me what happened next." She urged.

I blew out a sigh, "Okay, uh, that's when we went to see Karen. She was barely holding it together. We just wanted to be there for her. You know?"

* * *

_**Sam's Point of View**_

_**Giles House—Day**_

_**October 23rd, 2006**_

"_Insurance?" Karen Giles, Tony Giles' widow sniffled out, "I totally forgot about the insurance." She said looking at some of the forms that Dean and I had given her._

"_We're very sorry to bother you right now, but the company is required to conduct its own investigation. You understand." I told her gently. _

_Karen nodded, looking tearfully at me, "Sure." _

"_Okay. Um." I glanced over to Dean, then back to her, "If you could just tell us anything you remember about the night your husband died."_

"_Uh, Tony and I were just supposed to have dinner." She recounted, "He called and said he was having computer troubles and that—that he had to work late. That was it."_

_I leaned forward in my seat, "Do you have any idea who could have done this to him?"_

"_No." She said, "No, it's like I told the police, I-I have no idea."_

"_Did Tony mention anything, you know, unusual to you?" Dean prompted from where he said, "In the days before his death?"_

"_Unusual..." Karen echoed, drawing her eyebrows in confusion at his questions._

_Dean nodded, "Yeah, like strange?"_

_Giles' widow shook her head, "Strange?"_

"_You know, Karen, weird? Weird noises, uh, visions, anything like that?" Dean elaborated, causing my eyes to widen a fraction. I cleared my throat to shut him up, throwing him a withering look. Karen turned to look at me, obviously confused. I met her gaze straight-faced again, then shot him another look when she glanced down._

"_He had a nightmare the day before he died." Karen said._

_My brows rose at that. That was definitely something. "What kind of a nightmare?"_

"_Uh, he said that he woke up in the middle of the night and there was a woman standing at the foot of the bed, he blinked and she was gone," She laughed softly, "I mean, it was just a nightmare." _

_Dean's brows where drawn together, "Did he say what she looked like?"_

"_What the hell difference does it make what she looked like?" Karen questioned, getting upset again. Dean sat back, throwing an uneasy look to me._

"_Uh, it's just, our-our company's very thorough." Dean said quickly. _

"_He said she was pale, and she had dark red eyes."_

* * *

_**Present Day**_

_**Sam's Point of View**_

"So I gave Karen a hug, told her to call me if she needed anything," I told Ballard, then shrugged, "... and that was it. End of story."

Ballard leaned forward in her seat, resting her arms on the table, "Sam, I am trying to help you here. But you have got to be honest with me. Now we have an eyewitness. Someone who saw two men fitting your and your brother's description breaking into Giles' office."

"Okay, look, Karen called us later, said that there was some stuff that she wanted from Tony's office, but the police weren't letting her in - like, a picture of the two of them in Paris, and some other stuff. Look, it was wrong to enter a crime scene, but she gave us the key!"

* * *

_**½ a Day Ago**_

_**Sam's Point of View**_

_**Giles' Office—Night**_

_I picked the lock on Tony Giles' office with no issues, then eased the door open. Ducking under the police tape, I entered the office with Dean following closely behind. With my flashlight, the beam of light passed over a pool of blood on the floor._

"_Hey." Dean turned to me, "Anthony Giles' body was found right about here." I glanced down to the article, "Throat slit so deep part of his spinal cord was visible." I read aloud._

_From on Dean's phone, I heard Abigail let out a low whistle, "What do ya'll think?" She asked, "Vengeful spirit? Underlinin' vengeful?"_

"_Yeah, maybe." I replied in a light tone, "I mean he did see that woman at the foot of his bed." _

_Holding his phone in one hand, Dean picked up a sheet of paper lying on the desk, "Sam, take a look at this." I crossed the room, taking the sheet of paper. Gazing at it, the small-font printing of the word 'danashulps' repeated over and over until it filled the page._

"_What is it?" Abigail asked._

"_Dana Shulps." I read aloud._

"_A name?" Abigail asked, sounding a little confused. Dean searched the desk, finding another paper._

"_I dunno, but it's everywhere." Dean said, then started to grin, "Well, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." _

_Abigail laughed lightly over the phone, "You're horrible, Dean." _

"_How's Megan doing?" I heard Dean ask while I shined the flashlight down on a glass table in front of me._

"_She's doin' alright. Eat, sleep, poop, refuel, then do it all over again." Abigail drawled out, before yawning, "The parent life's for me." Glancing up at Dean a moment, seeing him smiling to himself. Focusing on the table, I breathed onto the glass, revealing the same letters 'DANASHULPS' impress in the surface._

"_Wow. I'd say we've officially crossed over into weird." I commented, causing Dean to look at what I had revealed._

"_Maybe Giles knew her." Dean said, looking up from the table._

"_Or maybe it's the name of our pale red-eyed mystery girl." Abigail pointed out._

"_Well. Let's see what we can see baby bro." Dean said, clapping me on the shoulder, "Call you later and let you know something."_

"_Ai'ght, I'll take a look about this 'Dana Shulps', see if I can find something out." Abigail said, "You two be careful."_

"_Always." Dean and I said in chorus, before he closed his cellphone. We must've searched the place up and down for almost an hour, searching through all accessible paper and computer files in the office. I scanned several files, when Dean let out a frustrated breath of air._

"_There's not a single mention of a Dana Shulps anywhere. There's not a D. Shulps. Or any other kind of fuckin' Shulps." He snapped out of annoyance. _

"_Great." I muttered, sarcasm coating my voice._

"_What have you got?" He implored._

_I glanced up from the computer screen half-annoyed, half-dejected about the lack of information, "Nothing." I replied with a shake of my head, "No Dana Shulps has ever lived or died in Baltimore in the last fifty years at least." _

"_So what now?" Dean asked._

"_Well, I think I'm pretty close to cracking Giles' password. Maybe there's something in his personal files, you know?" I suggested._

"_By close you mean..." Dean trailed off, expecting two to three minutes._

_I shrugged, "Thirty minutes, maybe?"_

_Dean glanced at his watch, "Awesome. So I guess I just get to, uh, hang out." He sat down in a chair, muttering before he proceeded to click his mouth. _

_An irritated groan left my mouth before I could catch it, "Dude, seriously." I deadpanned, "Call Abigail or text her or something if you're that bored." _

"_No, she's busy with the baby, you know that…she needs to rest—which I high doubt she's doing." Dean leaned forward in the chair, running a hand down his face tiredly. I highly doubted Abigail knew what Dean was like when she wasn't around. She had a pretty good idea, but I knew from several instances my brother felt like he was missing another piece of himself. _

_Since we pulled out of the hospital, Dean's entire demeanor has changed; he was mainly focused on the job, sleeping a lot less, acting a lot snappier and becoming more rash about decisions than what was considered normal for him…Dean was basically keeping himself so busy he wouldn't really have the time to think about Abigail not being here. Not to mention exceeding the limits of how annoying he could be in the matter of thirty seconds._

"_Maybe you should get up with Karen again," I suggested glancing back to the computer screen._

_Dean nodded, "Good idea." He agreed, "Alright, I'm gonna go talk to her again," He stood up, "see if she knows anything about this Dana Shulps, huh?" I hummed in response until Dean shone his flashlight in my eyes, "Keep going, Sparky."_

_I shook my head at him, rolling my eyes to the ceiling of the office out of annoyance. Next job, I was staying behind._

* * *

_**Present Day**_

_**October 24th, 2006**_

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Police Station**_

I sat outside the police station in my rental BMW, dabbing on some ruby red lipstick, "Eye of the Tiger, Abs." I told myself as I smeared the red pigment across my lips and smacked them together, "Eye. Of. The. Tiger." Throwing the precinct another anxious glance, I said a silent prayer that none of the cops in there knew what I looked like or if Sam or Dean had been questioned about me. Looking at myself in the tiny mirror, I evaluated myself once more before I set out. My hair was adorned in neat, tight curls while my make-up was pristine. Large pearl earrings hung from my ears, while a dainty gold chain with a cross hung from around my neck—Dean's necklace hanging low into my black dress. I looked professional enough to play the lawyer thing off.

Tapping my manicured nails against the steering wheel of the car, I took a deep breath and blew out, "Lord, help me." I muttered, getting out of the car. Wearing brand new peep-toed heels, I crossed the street and into the police station; briefcase in hand.

Inside, I came up to the desk of a lone officer; a male. _Oh, what are the odds of that?_ I asked myself as I stopped in front of him, offering a kind smile and pressed my arms against my chest, "Hi, I'm Roberta Plant from the public defender's office?" I said, catching his attention. The male officer jumped slightly, only to eye me up and down for a moment, "I'm here for the…" I took a quick second to look at a file I drew up, "The Winchester brothers? Jeffery couldn't make in."

"Right, uh…" He cleared his throat, "Right this way ma'am," pressing a button and from behind the door, it unlocked.

I flashed him a grin as I passed by, "Thanks, sweetie."

"No problem," He said, nodding to another officer waiting, "Take her to the Winchesters."

"Which one?" The other officer asked.

"The older one," I answered, after taking another look at my so-called file. In reality, it contained my notes from what I heard over the conversation the day before; namely anagrams for this 'danashulps' character.

"The older one…" It took the officer a second to register the oldest Winchester, "You mean the smartass?" I pressed my lips together to bite off a laugh. _That was Dean alright_.

I nodded, "I believe so."

"Right this way then," He said, leading me down a hallway, "This Dean character—the oldest brother? You gotta watch him."

I glanced over to him, "Oh?"

"Yeah," He nodded, "Five counts of murder, countless accounts of grave desecrations and fraud—"

"I'm very aware of what he's done, sir." I cut him off, "I've done my research." The cop's eyes widened a fraction at my tone. I didn't care.

"I hear they also have an accomplice." _That_ made my blood run cold. _Shit_.

"Really? What have you heard?" I asked, intrigued and wary about what they might've heard.

He shrugged, "All's I know is that there's a woman running around with them—pretty little thing, and wilder than a buck. The Winchester's won't speak about her—claims they don't know any girl."

"Who's this woman?" I asked.

"Dunno her name, though they have an idea she's awfully close to this Dean fellow—_real_ close, if you catch my drift?"

I furrowed my brows, "You mean, these two are involved?"

The cop nodded solemnly, "Oh yeah, and from the looks of it, they have a kid together—a baby girl. She looks sickly though, tubes and cords all over it." He shook his head, "I really hate the world we live in. Scum like that procreating. Poor kid's gonna be pretty messed up when she gets older." A flare of anger coursed through my veins at that. Who the hell are they to judge how my child was going to grow up? And for the record, Dean's _not_ a criminal.

"I hate to hear that, I really do." I bit out as we came to a stop in front of a door, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to speak to my client now." The cop nodded, showing me through the door, to which, I had the pleasure of seeing Dean's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. Perfect Kodak moment, if I did so myself.

"Mr. Winchester?" I asked.

Dean stared another moment longer, before clearing his throat, "Uh, yeah."

"I'm Roberta Plant. I'm with the public defender's office. I'm yours and your brother's lawyer."

Dean's mouth twitched into a salacious grin, "Oh, thank god. I'm saved." He threw a wink at me as I sat down, pulling out a folder.

"Mr. Winchester, these are the charges that are being filed against you." I slid the folder across the table to him as he slowly opened it, glancing up to me after a moment of reading in realization that 'DANASHULPS' was an anagram for 'Ashland', and the U, P, and S were just extra letters—which I had ex'd out in a sharpie pen, and written a note that said, "A street not far from this location".

"Has my brother seen this yet?" He asked.

I shook my head in response, "No, not yet." From where I sat, I reached my leg out until barely touched his leg. He jumped slightly at the touch, sending a flurry of sensations through me. His distressed and aggravated demeanor dissipated as he relaxed into his chair, kicking his feet out under the table and positioned his leg against mine. For a moment, and only a moment, he allowed himself to close his eyes, letting it be known internally that he was in good hands, "I had plans on seeing him in a few moments." Legs still out, he straightened up in his chair, occasionally glancing over to the large one way window.

"Listen, there's no way I'm getting out of this…" I furrowed my brows at him, "But Sam might have a chance—a great escape to say the least."

What he meant sunk in after a minute, "That he does, Mr. McQueen—a great escape, indeed." Dean closed the file, sliding it back over to me with his hand still on it. I reached out so that my hand covered his, in which I squeezed it in reassurance that I had their back. "I'll explain everything later." I mouthed, seeing him give me a minute nod and sat back in his chair, folding his arms. His eyes never left me until the door closed. Finding Sam's room wasn't hard. It was next door, surprise, surprise. Again, I had the pleasure of seeing another with an undeniable bout of shock when I stepped through the door.

After handing him the file with two sets of keys as I sat down, allowing him time to read the information. Seeing his brows furrow, I folded my arms, "So, Hilts. You ready?" Sam stared at me for a moment, nodding. "Good." I leaned forward lowering my voice, "I ain't got a lot of time. There's a key to the handcuffs and a key to my rental. When you get out, it's the sporty little Beemer out across the street with tinted windows. Get to it and keep your head low. I'll be out as soon as I can, Dean's gonna put on a little show long enough for you to do so." Sam nodded just as a knock on the door quickly followed with a female officer popping her head in.

"We need you. With the other one." She addressed me.

"Right away," I said, throwing Sam a look before I rushed out of the room with the officer. Several others have crowded into the observation room outside where Dean was being held; across from his seat a digital camera had been set up by the time officer Ballard and I had returned. The officer over Dean held a cocky look when I stopped, throwing them both a look.

"Counselor? Your boy decided to confess."

I feigned horror, "Mr. Winchester? I'd advise against that _strongly._" Dean merely grinned at me like the Cheshire cat in _Alice in Wonderland_, before he turned back to the male detective.

"Talk directly into the camera, first stating your name for the record." He informed Dean, who leaned forward and cleared his throat.

"My name is Dean Winchester. I'm an Aquarius. I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women." He paused, throwing me a wink. I had to cough in order to stave off a laugh. "And I did _not_ kill anyone. But I know who did. Or rather _what_ did. Of course it can't be for sure, because our investigation was interrupted. But our working theory was that we're looking for some kind of vengeful spirit."

I smirked, seeing the female detective look absolutely bewildered by what he had just said, "Excuse me?"

Dean looked over to her and shrugged, "You know, Casper the bloodthirsty ghost?" From inside the observation room, I heard spectators start laughing, causing me to purse my lips. I felt their condescension towards the two detectives and their crazy suspect—_my_ boyfriend. My shoulders started to shake with quiet laughter that quickly stopped realizing that my powers were having a hand in it.

"This must be some kind of joke," I uttered, "He's obviously crazy."

Dean threw me a smug look, "Tony Giles saw it. I'll bet you cash money Karen did too. But see, the interesting thing is the word it leaves behind. For some reason it's trying to tell us something. But communicating across the vale, it ain't easy. You know, sometimes the spirits, they, they get things jumbled. You remember "REDRUM". Same concept. You know, it's, uh, maybe word fragments... other times, it's anagrams. See, at first we thought this was a name, Dana Shulps. But now we think it's a street. Ashland. Whatever's going on, I'll bet you it started there." He concluded with a content smile, spreading his hands and leaned back into his seat.

"You arrogant bastard. Tony and Karen were good people, and you're making jokes." Detective Sheridan snarled out in offence.

"I'm not joking, Ponch." Dean replied calmly.

"You murdered them in cold blood just like that girl in St. Louis!" He yelled out. I shot him a glare, remembering St. Louis _very _clearly.

"Oh, yeah. That wasn't me either. That was a shape-shifter creature that only looked like me." Dean told him smiling into the camera. Sheridan lost his temper and hauled Dean by the collar up against the wall.

"Hey!" I shouted.

"Pete, stop it!" Ballard protested. Sheridan's grip on Dean's collar loosened, causing me to look between the both of them. It dawned on me that the two were sleeping together.

Dean stared him down in defiance, "You asked for the truth."

Sheridan stared at him for a long moment, then smirked, "You know that woman that's been traveling around with you? Like I said earlier, I got pictures of her." I froze in my spot. _Oh fuck_, _and he ain't lying_. "Your phone?" Dean's smug look disappeared, soon turning into that of defiance, "There's dozens of pictures…I hear from other precincts that she's never too far from the likes of you." Dean's jaw tightened, forcing himself to not look over to me, "Who is she?"

"I don't know what you're talkin' about, buddy." Dean's voice held a hidden anger. His blood _had_ to be boiling.

"Don't give me that shit, Dean." Sheridan said, "She's obviously something to you. A friend?" Dean said nothing. "A girlfriend?" Dean remained silent, "You and her have a kid together, Dean. A sick one at that. Would be a shame if something happened to her." I swallowed down a fit of rage of my own, folding my arms across my chest to prevent myself from leaping over the table and rip his head off his shoulders. Dean's green eyes glazed over with a deep rooted anger.

"Leave my daughter out of this." He growled out.

Sheridan smirked at his victory, "Did I hit a nerve? I'm so sorry." He let Dean go, taking a step back, "A child born with it's parents unmarried…" He made a tsking sound with his mouth, earning a dark look from the both of us, "It's a shame she has to grow up hearing her bastard father's nothing but low-life murderer. Cause where you're going; you won't see her or your girlfriend ever again." That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Dean lunged forward, getting two good punches in before Sheridan had got in a few punches as well before he had slammed Dean against the wall once again.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean yelled out in protest, "Leave my family _out_ of this!"

A slew of officers came rushing in as Ballard went to Sheridan's side to see what Dean had done to him; a busted lip and nose. _Served him right, bastard._

"I'm fine. I'm fine." Sheridan said, wiping blood off his face and glanced at it, "You just assaulted an officer." He jerked his chin to Dean, "Lock his ass up." Another cop took over, shoving Dean face-first against the wall and handcuffed him. I took that as my cue to leave before Sheridan could match my face with any of the pictures he had laid out on the table of me in order to get a response from him. Dean's eyes fell on me, blood pouring from a cut over his eye before I slipped out of the room undetected and practically ran out of the precinct. Getting into the BMW, I turned the key to the ignition switch as the engine purred to life.

I dropped the clutch to it until I left the parking spot with a trail of smoking black marks trailing behind. I was so angry of what I had just heard and witnessed. It wasn't until I made it down the road a good four blocks until Sam sat up in the backseat uneasily.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," He mumbled, earning an apologetic look from me.

I pulled into an empty parking lot, throwing the car in park before I leaned forward with my arms up on the steering wheel and rested my forehead, "Sammy…"

"Yeah?"

"Is Dean and I really that bad of parents?" I asked as I closed my eyes.

There was silence, an appalled one, "No, why?" Sam asked, shocked. I didn't move my head, instead I opened my eyes to where I was staring down at my lap as a rush of tears burst forth, "Abby…" My heart clenched painfully, quickly taking the back of my hand to wipe away the stray tears. I closed my eyes again when Sam struggled to climb up front with me. The car rocked slightly until Sam made it through with a grunt "Hey, Abigail...what did they say?"

I swallowed hard for the lump in my throat, "It's just…there were officers in there that knew about Megan and me…they were usin' us against Dean…" I heard Sam inhale sharply, "…and, uh, they kept sayin' that we were scum, and that when she got older, she was goin' to messed up due to the fact that her, and I quote, 'Bastard father's a murderer'."

"Abigail…" Sam began, voice faltering, "Don't listen to them. I'm sure Dean doesn't believe all of that. I mean, it's-it's just a, a tactic police use. You and him both know."

"I know it, Sam." I said quietly. I finally lifted my head up from the steering wheel to look at him, "But doin' what we do... protectin' these people from all of these monsters and ghosts and demons… does that make us bad parents?"

Sam stared me in the eye, jaw tightened. He, of all people should know, "No." He said firmly. I raised my brows slightly at the sincerity in his voice, "You and Dean are great parents. The both of you try to make it work for her, and that's all that matters. I mean, look at all the things you and him have done for her; making her a room."

"It's half-assed." I muttered.

"It's still a place for her." He pointed out, "_Two_ places; Charlie's and Bobby's." Sam shifted in the seat beside me, "Abigail, you and Dean's already done so much for Megan. You've both made sacrifices. _I've_ made sacrifices."

"I know you have Sammy…I couldn't thank you enough for it." Sam's hand clasped over mine in reassurance.

"You and Dean will figure things out… you always do." Sam said.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Police Station—Night**_

So here I was again, back into another interrogation room. _Just peachy_. Sitting at the table; handcuffed, the female detective, _Ballard_ or whatever came in to the room. She looked like she saw a ghost or something. Her overall appearance seemed nervous, but what the hell?

I ran a hand down my face roughly, "Can we make this quick? I'm a little tired, it's been a long day, you know, with your partner assaulting me and all." I told her with a clipped tone. My head was throbbing.

Ballard slowly approached me, "I want to know more about that stuff you were talking about earlier."

I smirked, "Time Life. Mysteries of the Unknown. Look it up."

She fidgeted in her place, "Let's pretend for the moment you're not entirely insane." I stared at her for a second, humming in thought, "What would one of these things be doing here?"

"A vengeful spirit?" I asked, then shrugged, "Well, they're created by violent deaths. And then they come back for a reason, usually a nasty one. Like revenge on the people that hurt 'em.

"And uh, these, they're capable of killing people?" Ballard asked, rubbing her neck. Something caught my eye, more or less it was on her wrist.

I leaned forward in my seat, "Where did you get that?" I asked, nodding to her wrist. The detective pulled up her sleeves, revealing deep bruises—the same kind of bruises that were on Karen Giles' wrists.

"I don't know. It, it wasn't there before." She said, sounding shocked.

"You've seen it, haven't you? The spirit?"

Her face ultimately gave away the answer, "How did you know?"

"Because Karen had the same bruises on her wrists. And I'm willing to bet that if you look at Giles' autopsy photos he's got 'em too—it's got something to do with this spirit," I hung my head slightly, shaking it, "I... I don't know what." When I looked back up to the detective she had turned away, looking into the mirrored window of the observation room, "I know. You think you're going crazy. But let's skip that part, shall we? Because the last two people who saw this thing? Died, pretty soon after. You hear me?"

Ballard looked over her shoulder, "You think I'm going to die."

"You need to go to Sam and Abigail. They'll help." I said.

Ballard's face registered shock, "You're-you're girlfriend?"

I nodded, "Yeah, the hot little blonde that was here? Roberta Plant?"

"The counselor?" Once again, I nodded, smirking at the look on her face, "So, you're giving your brother and girlfriend up."

"Go to the first motel listed in the yellow pages. Look for Jim Rockford and Leslie Snipes - it's how we find each other when we're separated. Now you can arrest him and her if you want. Or you can let them save your life."

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Motel—Night**_

The drive to the motel had been short, an approximate fifteen minute drive from the empty parking lot to the rental place, and from there, a short walk down two blocks where a dinky little motel was located. There in the parking lot of the motel was the Impala and my motorcycle; a 2004 Harley Davidson Screamin' Eagle. I won that baby on a bet and a pool game, and she was a beaut.

Inside, Sam and I spent over an hour sitting in our designated areas going through files. I sat on a bed while Sam sat at the desk when I looked up from a paper with furrowed brows. I had sensed this nervousness and fear, causing Sam to peer up from his papers with a concerned expression. "What's wrong?" He asked.

"Someone's here." I answered, and at that time, there was a knock on the door. We shared a look, causing me to slide off of the bed with my hand reaching for my gun in a nonchalant manner.

"What're you doing?" Sam asked, looking at me like I was insane.

"Answer the door." I hissed. As he did so, my eyes widened slightly upon seeing detective Ballard. Instantaneously, my hands flew into view when he hesitated at her appearance. She merely shrugged and entered, however, something on her wrists caught my eye, "What've you got?"

Sam shut the door, looking to Ballard's wrists when she lifted them up for him to see and told us roughly about what had happened to her, "And these showed up after you saw it?" I asked.

"Yeah, I guess." She replied, seeming utterly lost. It was a look, sound, and talk I had learned to know all too well with people who didn't know of the existence of supernatural beings. Sam and Dean knew it by heart.

Sam and I exchanged another glance, "Alright." He sighed out, "You're going to have to tell us exactly what you saw."

"You know, I must be losing my mind." Ballard said looking to us both, "You're a fugitive and you're a criminal. I should be arresting you both."

"Yeah, well, you can arrest us later, alright?" Anger bubbled to the surface, remembering everything that had happened in the interrogation room earlier that day, "But you ain't doin' a damn thing till _after_ you live through this—so sit tight."

Sam gave me a dirty look, knowing my temper was rising all too quickly, "I got this, Abigail." I pulled a face at him before sitting on the edge of the bed. He turned to Ballard, with his puppy dog look in full effect, "Alright. Right now you've gotta talk to us. Okay?" The detective gave him a simple nod, "Okay, great. Now, this spirit. What did it look like?"

"She was, um, really pale, and her throat was cut, and her eyes, they were like, this deep dark red? It appeared like she was trying to talk to me. But she couldn't. It was just... a lot of blood." I furrowed my brows as I took in her information.

"You know what? Here." I gestured them over to the table, "Sammy and I've been researchin' every girl that's ever died or gone missin' from Ashland Street." Sam led her over to the table that I had moved in between both beds, where he gathered up a stack of crime scene photos. With furrowed brows, Ballard looked up from the photos, shocked.

"How'd you get those?" She questioned, "Those are from crime scenes, and booking photos."

Sam smirked, "You have your job, we have ours." I smiled at that. _That's my boy, Sammy_. "I need you to look through these, tell me if you recognize anyone." There was a pretty good size stack of photos with one photo that I picked up on. I knew which one it was—the third one. Sam knew which one it was too, which led him to bring her over to the stack. When Ballard sat down, flipping through each card, she faltered on the third one exactly.

When the color in her face drained, I smirked. "This is her. I'm sure of it." She said, looking up to us.

Sam's eyes flickered over to me before falling back on Ballard, "Claire Becker? Twenty eight years old, disappeared about eight or nine months ago."

"But I don't even know her. I mean, why would she come after me?" She asked.

"Well, before her death, she was arrested twice. For dealin' heroin. You ever work narcotics?" I questioned.

She nodded, "Yeah, Pete and I did. Before Homicide."

"You ever bust her?" I asked, tilting my head to the side.

Ballard shook her head, "Not that I remember."

Sam glanced over to me, and I nodded slightly. She was telling the truth, "It says that she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street." Sam explained, "Police searched the place, didn't find anything. Guess we gotta check it out ourselves. See if we can find her body."

"What?"

I shrugged, "Well, we gotta salt and burn her bones. It's the only way to put her spirit to rest."

"Of course it is." Ballard sighed out.

"You just don't know."

* * *

_**2911 Ashland Street—Night**_

"So what exactly are we looking for?" The detective, whose name we found out was Diana, asked.

"I'll let you know when we find it." Sam told her, "I should say, when _she_ finds it." He said, motioning to me. I smirked at him, raising my hand in a one finger salute. Sam grinned at me, though Diana just looked perplexed. We split up, Sam checking up a flight of stairs, while I stuck with her.

"So, you're Dean's girlfriend." Diana said.

"That'd be me." I hummed out, looking around the area of the lower level. There was something about this place that had me on edge.

"You have a beautiful daughter." She said.

_Here we go._ My lips turned upward into a cynical smirk, "Listen, I appreciate the complement and all, but don't bring my child into it. You or your…_partner_, don't know what Dean and I've been through."

Diana frowned, "I apologize about what Pete said…"

"_Pete_ can shove it." I interrupted her, "He doesn't know Dean, like his brother and I do. Dean _is not_ a murderer, and what happened in St. Louis—that wasn't him. Police tactic or not, you don't say that." I shook my head, keeping a firm gaze on the female detective, "Not to him." There was a clank somewhere off in the shadows that made me look out there.

"Dean was caught red-handed at the scene of Karen Giles' murder. As of right now—" I held my hand up, shushing her. In the illumination of the window, I looked around and the shuffle of Diana moving kept me on edge. Or was it her? I felt a tight grip on my wrist, a cold one at that.

"Diana, let go of—" I turned, realizing that Diana was frozen in her place halfway across the room. I turned my head to see the ghastly vision of Claire; messy blonde hair with blood caked in it, blood red eyes, and a Columbian neck tie. Her eyes were wide, mouth gaping as if she were trying to speak…only nothing was coming out except for blood.

"Sam? Sam? _Sam_!" Diana yelled out, causing a series of heavy footsteps to follow shortly after Claire disappeared.

"Hey! Hey, I'm here, what is it?" He stopped short, next to Diana as he looked between her and I, "What happened?"

I gripped my wrist, "Claire..."

He looked around, "Where?"

Diana pointed to the empty spot beside me, "She, she was there…standing next to Abigail."

Sam's eyes widened, "Did she attack you?" Diana shook her head, followed by Sam turning to me, "Did she hurt you?"

I shook my head, "No. No, she was tryin' to talk. Tryin' to make me…follow her? She had ahold of my wrist, tuggin' at it almost." I turned to the window that was blocked by a shelving unit. Then it dawned on me and I grabbed ahold of the heavy unit, "Sam, help me move this thing."

"Alright." The three of us shoved the shelves aside with little effort, revealing the window, labeled from the outside.

Diana shone the flashlight across the wording of Ashland Supplies, "Our little mystery word." We turned to see the shadow on the opposite wall, casting the words into clear reflection.

"Now the extra letters make sense." I murmured, when Sam pulled out his EMF reader, approaching the opposite wall.

Still not understanding our line of work, Diana leaned over to me, gesturing to the reader, "What is that?"

"Spirits and certain remains give off electromagnetic frequencies." Sam answered, moving around the room.

"So if Claire's body was here, that would indicate that?" She hypothesized.

I nodded, "Yeah. Well, that's the theory." The EMF reader purred to life when Sam waved it over the brick wall, making him turn back around to pick up an iron rod from the ground nearby. When he knocked out a sizable hole in the brick wall, he shone his flashlight inside.

"Yeah. Yeah, there's definitely something in there." He called out, making me cross the room to help him break through the wall with elbows and fists flying, "You know? This is bothering me."

"Well, you two _are_ digging up a corpse." Diana mused.

"No, not that." He said, "That's, uh, that's pretty par for the course, actually."

"Then what?"

"It's just, I mean, no vengeful spirit Abigail and I've ever tussled with wanted to be wasted, so why the hell would Claire lead us to her remains?"

"It doesn't make any sense." I grunted out when I slammed a sledgehammer into the wall, breaking it open for the most part, "All right, here. Give me a hand." Together, Sam and I pulled out a shroud-wrapped body and placed it on the ground. Sam pulled out a pocket knife and cut the ropes holding the shroud together, ultimately uncovering Claire. Diana held out her wrists upon seeing the would-be bruises.

"Her wrists." He mused out, "Yeah, they'd be bruised just like yours?"

Then, Diana reached out, touching a necklace on the corpse cautiously, "That necklace mean somethin' to you?" I asked.

"I've seen it before." Diana confirmed, "It's rare. It was custom made over on Carson street." She reached into her neckline, pulling out the same necklace, "I have one just like it. Pete gave it to me."

Sam and I looked at each other, "Now this all makes perfect sense." He said, pacing.

"I'm sorry?" Diana asked.

I nodded, "You see, Claire is not a vengeful spirit, she's a death omen."

"Excuse me?" Diana stood.

"Claire's not killin' anyone. She's tryin' to warn them." I elaborated.

Diana looked to Sam for an explanation, "You see, sometimes spirits, they don't want vengeance, they want justice. Which is why she led us here in the first place. She wants us to know who her killer is." There was a moment of silence between the three of us, waiting for Diana to piece the puzzle herself. She, on the other hand, looked perplexed, "Detective, how much do you know about your partner?"

That was when it sunk in. I sensed her horror, "Oh my god."

"What?" Sam asked.

"About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lockup. Obviously it was a cop. We never found out who did it. But whoever did it would need someone to fence their product." Diana explained.

"Someone like a heroin dealer." I mused, finding myself staring down at the remains, "Somebody like Claire." All the pieces where coming together now. Pete, Diana Ballard's partner, was Claire's murderer, meaning that this psychopath was with Dean. I felt a pang of nausea in the pit of my stomach as I brought a hand up to my forehead, "We need to get Dean, and fast." After salting and burning the bones to Claire's remains, Sam, Diana, and I left the warehouse and climbed into Claire's vehicle, going down the highway. We'd been on the road ten minutes when she pulled her cellphone out, dialing a number.

"Yeah, I need to speak to Detective Pete Sheridan, this is his partner, Detective Diana Ballard." She fell silent for a moment, waiting for a reply, "Alright, thanks." Diana said as she finished a call on her cell phone. Sam, who was sitting up front looked over at her.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Pete just left the precinct." She stated, "With Dean."

Mine and Sam's hearts sunk, "What?" We asked in chorus.

Diana glanced to the both of us, "He said the prisoner had to be transferred, and he just took him. Dispatch has been calling but he won't answer the radio."

"Radio? He took a county vehicle?" I asked.

Diana nodded, "Yeah." I looked up to Sam, who nodded.

"Well, then they should have a lo-jack, you've just gotta get it turned on." Sam told her, and within a few minutes, he had it activated. Come to find out, we weren't too far behind them. Driving down a two-lane backdrop, we drew ever closer…that was until I noticed that Pete's ride had remained stationary. That made my heart pound harder in my chest with apprehension. Knowing how Dean was in a situation like his, he'd stall for as long as he could and go down swinging. My eyes stayed fixed on the dot as we closed in on Pete and Dean's location. It wasn't until we were half a mile down the road from them when Diana had turned off all lights and killed the engine. Granted the distance wasn't a far trek, but I could already feel Dean's apprehension and Pete's animalistic desire to end Dean's life.

I was the first to get out of the car, followed by Sam and Diana shortly after. We sprinted up the road until the transport vehicle came into view. In the light of the tail lights, I saw two figures; one with a gun pointed to another who was on their knees.

"Wait! Wait." I heard Dean say quickly, "Let's-let's talk about this. I mean, you don't want to do something that you're gonna regret later." I heard the cock of the gun, "Or maybe you do."

"Pete!" Diana shouted, "Put the gun down."

"Diana? How'd you find me?" He sounded genuinely sorry that she had to be there and find out the truth. He aimed the gun at Dean, and I felt my heart constrict from dread.

"I know about Claire." She told him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Pete denied. My face was burning with anger—not my own, but his. He'd been caught red-handed.

"Put the gun down!" Diana ordered.

"Oh, I don't think so." Pete said, shaking his head at her, "You're fast. I'm pretty sure I'm faster."

Diana then switched tactics, "Why are you doing this?"

"I didn't do anything, Diana." He objected, looking over to her again.

"It's a little late for that." Her tone steeled.

"It wasn't my fault. Claire was trying to turn me in, I had no choice." I glanced over to the male detective, debating my chances of getting in the way, until I met Dean's gaze. He knew what I was going to do should things go south. I tried to keep the fact that his fate rested in the hands of a detective, whom Sam and I knew for a few hours. My opinion about her was beginning to change a whole lot. Seeing her confront her partner who'd gone AWOL and postal was shedding a new light.

"And Tony? Karen?" She prompted.

"Same thing! Tony scrubbed the money, he got skittish, and then he wanted to come clean. I'm sure he told Karen everything." As I inched closer to get within range, I noticed Dean glance over to Sam and I, shaking his head. That was when I felt Sam grip my elbow. My heart sunk when I turned to look back at him. With gritted teeth, he shook his head at me in a silent 'no'. With wide eyes, I looked back to Dean, "It was a mess; I had to clean it up. I just panicked."

"How many more people are gonna die over this, Pete?" Diana implored.

"There's a way out. This Dean kid's a friggin' gift. We could pin the whole thing on him. Right? No trial, nothing. Just, just one more dead scumbag."

"Hey!" Dean protested at the name Pete had given him. It was mentally jotted down with the numerous other's I'd heard throughout the day; each one holding a certain degree of anger towards those who had said it and a certain degree of anguish towards Dean. He'd received them over nothing. When Pete raised the gun, Dean then backed off, raising his hands in surrender.

"No one will question it. Diana, please. I still love you." He told her. When Diana relinquished her gun, Pete's face read relief, "Thank you." He breathed out, "Thank you." As he turned back to Dean, Diana brought her gun up and fired, hitting her partner in the stomach. He went down as Dean rolled out of the way.

Diana approached him, glaring, "Then why don't you buy me another necklace, you ass?" Pete tackled her legs, knocking her down. As Diana fell, her gun flew from her hand. Sam tried to go for it, only to stop when Pete clambered over to it first.

"Don't do it! Don't do it!" He warned, getting up unevenly. At the same time he had stopped Sam, I had mine already out; aimed for his head. Pete's eyes widened, moving the gun back and forth between Sam and I.

"You're gut shot—you're gonna die anyways." I said coolly, "Drop the gun."

"You're _her_." I looked behind him to see Claire's ghost behind him, staring through her bloody hair, smiling. In that small window of opportunity, Diana recovered a weapon; Pete's gun, and shot him in the back. This time when he went down, he stayed down. Tucking my gun in the back of my jeans, I rushed over to Dean, practically sliding a few feet like a baseball player where I met his handcuffed hands wrapping around me tightly. I squeezed my eyes shut, burying my face into the crook of his neck.

"I'm okay," I heard him tell me comfortingly, then kissed the side of my face, "I'm okay."

* * *

**_October 25th, 2006_**

_**Clearing—Morning**_

As the sun began to come up, Diana was kneeling by Pete's corpse. Her face was pale, etched in a horrified expression. Sam, Dean, and I were standing nearby watching her.

"You reckon someone should check on her?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged from beside me, "I don't know, what do you think?" He asked, glancing to me.

"Probably," I said, tilting my head until it was resting on Dean's shoulder. When Diana stood up finally, she approached the three of us. Her heart was breaking, everything within her was a chaotic mess. It was understandable considering that the man she'd been sleeping with was actually a killer, and to cover up his tracks, tried to kill my boyfriend. "You doin' alright?" I asked.

Diana shook her head at us, "Not really." She admitted, "The death omen Claire. What happens to her now?"

"Should be over." Sam said, "She should be at rest."

"So, uh. What now, officer?" Dean asked her, uncertainty lacing his words. His grip around my waist tightened ever so slightly.

"Pete did confess to me. He screwed up both your cases royally." She said, looking between Sam and Dean, "I'd say that there's a good chance that we could get your cases dismissed."

"You'd take care of that for us?" Sam asked, genuinely shocked at the news.

"I hope so. But the St. Louis murder charges? That's another story. I can't help you. Unless... I just happened to turn my back, and the three of you walked away. I could just tell them that the suspects escaped."

"Wait, are you sure?" Dean and I turned to look at Sam as if he grew another head.

"I'm pretty sure she's sure, Sam." I spoke for her.

"No, it's just, I mean, you could lose your job over something like that." Sam told her.

"Look, I just want you guys out there doing what you do best. Trust me, I'll sleep better at night." She said before turning to go, "Listen, you need to watch your back. They're gonna be looking for both of you right now."

Watching her gesture to Sam and Dean, I smiled sheepishly, "Yeah…so, about that…uh, would there be any way of not mentionin' my existence? I'm not even supposed to be alive." That question seemed to have caught Diana off-guard, "Long story."

"I'll see what I can do," She said with an amused smile, "Get out of here. I gotta radio this in."

"Hey, uh, you wouldn't happen to know where my car is, by chance?" Dean asked.

I placed an endearing hand on his shoulder, "It's safe." I told him before I met the woman's confused look.

"It's at the impound yard down on Robertson—" Her eyes widened a fraction, "Wait, you-?"

"What can I say?" I said with a smile, as Dean grinned at me, "Also, Diana?"

"Yeah?"

I hesitated, "I want to apologize—"

She held up a hand, "Don't. You had every right to be angry. I shouldn't have let Pete say what he did. From what I've seen tonight, there isn't a doubt in my mind that you and Dean have been through a lot, and for that, _I'm_ sorry." I nodded, speechless, "Now, go."

She didn't have to say anything else, Dean, Sam, and I turned on our heels to start walking back down the road.

"Nice lady." Sam commented.

"Yeah, for a cop." I shrugged.

"Did she look familiar to you?" Dean suddenly asked, causing Sam and I to rattle our brains for some sort of recognition.

"No, why?" Sam asked, shoving Dean playfully. I smiled at the two of them as we continued walking.

"I don't know." He said, "Anyway, are you guys hungry?"

Sam shook his head, "No." He said, while I proceeded to say "God, yes!"

"For some reason I could really go for some pea soup." Dean said.

"I'm with you on that one," I agreed. Sam and Dean then looked over to me, "What?"

Dean halted, "You know what."

"Yeah, how'd you know we were in trouble?" Sam questioned.

I shrugged, "Mother's intuition." Dean arched a brow at me, "So I may or may not have been…trackin' ya'll's cell phones." Both men exchanged a surprised look, "I got worried okay? When I saw that you two were stationary in the jail, I came out on the first flight to Baltimore, then went and got my bike from storage."

"So, who's watching Megan?" Dean asked.

"Really, Dean? You really gotta ask me that?" I questioned him, arching my brow at him. He shrugged meekly, knowing the answer was going to be Bobby.

* * *

**_Five Hours Later_**

**_Charleston, West Virginia_**

**_Charlie and Kara's House—Day_**

Due to the police looking for Dean and Sam's whereabouts in Maryland, we thought it to be best to hideout at Charlie and Kara's place for a couple of days. They were more than gracious to do let us stay even though the awkwardness of Dean and I's breakup fight still seemed fresh. Dean and I were sitting on the bed, talking to Bobby; who had been with Megan for the better part of the day. Much to Dean and I's relief, her overall health had been improving, but due to a fever her odds of leaving the hospital within a few days were slim. That had been the dampener of our day.

"Thanks Bobby, we owe you." Dean said, placing a hand on my thigh.

"_No problem_." Bobby's gruff voice replied, "_As busy as I've been today, I'm _glad_ to be here._" I noticed Dean's lips quirk up into a smile, "_When you three headin' back_?"

"I want to say we'll be heading out after things up in Maryland cool down, so, a few days?" Dean replied, "We're also thinking about laying low at your place when Megan gets outta the hospital, if that's okay."

"_My place is yours, Dean. You know that._" Bobby replied, "_So give or take a few days?_"

Dean nodded out of habit, "Yeah, we're hoping shorter, but it really depends. We may run into a job on the way there, plus I gotta follow behind Abs; she'll be riding her two-wheeled death trap back." I scoffed, shoving him playfully as he chuckled.

"_Alright, well, we'll be here_." Bobby said, "_Talk to you idjits later_." Dean closed the phone shut, then tucked it under his chin. We sat in silence. It was clear that Megan was fighting to stay strong, but it was also beginning to become hard to push through each hurdle life tossed at us.

I leaned forward until my elbows were resting on my knees and my head in my hands, "I don't think I can handle much more of this…"

"You heard Bobby, she's doing better and they were keeping a close eye on her." Dean said gently.

"I know." I muttered, running my hands down my face roughly. I was exhausted, so was Sam and Dean. Everything was beginning to sink in all over again; Megan's premature arrival, her health getting better then getting worse, yesterday's events…it was a wonder I hadn't started crying. That was until Dean gathered me in his arms, and pulled me onto the bed where we laid together. I had already clamped a hand over my mouth in order to muffle the choked sound, fighting with myself to quit crying—even if it was just for a minute.

"Hey. Hey, everything's okay," Dean murmured into my hair gently, running a hand down my back, "I'm okay, Sam's okay, you're okay, even Megan—you're just tired. Hell, we all are."

"I just want our daughter to be out of the hospital." I said hoarsely.

Dean's lips were pressed against my temple, "God, me too." He agreed, "As soon as she gets out, I'm taking her far away from there so that it's just the four of us; you, me, Sam, and Megan." He tilted my chin up in order for me to look at him. His face was etched with worry, struggling with himself to not dwell on the bad things, "Deal?"

Slowly regaining composure, I nodded, "That sounds like a plan."

"We'll lay low for a while. No jobs." I glanced up at him through tear-soaked lashes, giving him an unsure onceover of what he'd just said, "What?" Dean asked, innocently.

"You? Not taking a job? It sounds impossible." I said wiping away stray tears.

He shrugged, "Nothin's impossible, babe." He rested his head on an arm, "Thought we'd never be parents, but here we are with an eleven-week old." I hummed half-heartedly at that. Dean _was_ speaking the truth. We'd always thought we'd get off Scotch-free. Me and him hadn't even thought about a family, but like he said, here we were. From beside him, I felt his body tense up, soon followed by a heart-wrenching sensation in my chest.

"What is it?" I asked quietly.

"Nothing." Dean murmured.

"Dean…"

"Okay, okay. I get it, you know somethin's up." He said relenting as he sat up on his elbows, "It's just something that douchebag detective was saying in the interrogation room…"

"What part?" I asked, "Everything?"

His eyes softened, "Well, yeah…that and the fact he made it a point to mention that we're not…" He gestured his head, "you know."

"Married?" Dean nodded, growing quiet. _Married._ That one word was heavy enough drown a person, "Why should it matter that we're not married?"

"I dunno," He replied, lying back until we were looking at each other with turned heads, "I mean, it doesn't seem too hard."

I arched my brow slightly, "You realize marriage is a whole new level of commitment, right?"

Dean made a face, "Of course I do!" He scoffed, putting his arms under his head, "I can commit to anything in my sleep."

"A'ight," I said slightly curious and wary at the same time at where this was heading to, "Name one thing you've committed yourself to."

"Baby. Sam. Pies." I rolled my eyes at that, "_Classic Rock_."

"Okay, so that's four." I said, "Anyth—"

"You and Megan." My mouth hung open slightly, still ready to say, 'anythin' else?' but those two measly words never came out. Instead, I found myself fighting back a shy smile and the fact that my face felt like it was on fire out of embarrassment, "I've stayed committed to you since day one—that's gotta be something."

"I know, but…" My shy smile disappeared for a second, only for it to be replaced with uncertainty, "Could you really spend your whole life with me? After all we've been through lately?" I asked.

"Definitely." He said, sitting up, "We've made it this far. I mean, we have a kid already…" His shoulders lifted up once again in a small shrug, "Why not give it a shot?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing from him, "You're serious." I deadpanned, _knowing_ that he was being totally serious right now.

"Of course I'm serious." Dean told me.

"You, Dean Winchester, want to get married?" I prompted. Dean looked at me with considering eyes as I shook my head, "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Dean mused, "There's gonna be a lot of brokenhearted women out there." I smacked his leg playfully, earning a cheesy grin from him, "So, what do you think?"

"You had no influence from Sam?" I asked.

Dean rolled his eyes, "What? Of course not! I can think for myself sometimes!"

I thought about it for a second, then nodded, "Okay."

Dean stiffened, "Okay, what?"

This time I rolled my eyes, "Okay, as in, 'Okay, I'll marry you', short bus."

It took Dean a few seconds to let what I said sink in before he reeled back, brows raised in surprise, "Really?" A shy smile tugged at the corners of my mouth when I nodded slowly in response. Dean let out a soft huff, "Son of a bitch." He turned his head till he was looking up at the ceiling in a daze. We were silent for a moment or two until I turned onto my side and propped my head up on my arm.

"So…what now?" I asked.

Dean's eyes met mine in a bewildered fashion, "I haven't really gotten that far, to be honest." He admitted. I took my freehand to run my fingertips along the side of his face, jawline, and neck.

"Sure you do." I told him, finding a new spur of confidence, "You always figure things out before you even know it."

Dean smiled, "And you have blind faith in me."

"Maybe I do," I mused, "But you do the same for me."

His hand reached up to take mine, "I don't have a lot of money, Abs, but I want to do this right. I can't afford a ring, but I promise you, you'll have one." His eyes remained fixed on me, "No credit card scams, none of the money Charlie's wired to us—nothing. _I'm_ going to get the money."

"Dean, I don't need a ring—"

"But I want you to." He said, "When I do get it, I'll do this over. The next time, it'll blow your mind." He grinned at me, "What do ya say?"

I laughed, "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this out. I've been _swamped_ with photography homework. I'm in two classes now and managing my time between writing and school is _so_ rusty. Thankfully I'm almost done with the classes and I'll be soon going back to only one in two and a half weeks, so chapters _should_ be rolling out like they normally were! I really hope that this chapter is good, I've spent enough time on it!**

**I try my best to get chapters done in a week, week and a half depending on things around me. On these past two occasions, it took me longer. So, here's 'The Usual Suspects' (finally)!**

**Also! Yea or nay on Sam staying behind in "Crossroad Blues"? I was think about doing it like that, but now I've hit a road block!**

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**I'd love to thank _Ladysunshine6_ for helping me out with this, as well as offering suggestions. I couldn't get this done if it wasn't for her! So, check out her sister-fic, _Ain't Easy in the Big Easy!_**

**I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise.**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me or you can get a hold of me via Tumblr! I love receiving fan-mail for all three!**

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**The song for this chapter: _Here's to Us_ by Halestorm**

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**grapejuice101- Thank you! It's been a long and difficult road for her and Dean, that's for sure!**

**angelicedg- Thank you! I actually _loved_ Jo and her impact on Dean, but in this story, she's a little hostile and a little bit of a shithead to Abigail, which may end up being a good thing in the long run. Potential big sis/little sis friendship?**

**Guest- Thank you! I appreciate your kind words!**

**ebonywarrior85- Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it! I hope you like this chapter!**

**sarahmichellegellarfan1- Howdy! Thank you! Like I was telling angelicedg, I _loved_ Jo. I believe in the chapter, I wanted her to seem hostile and a shithead because of that, in which, Dean made it clear that he wasn't interested in her. When Megan _does_ come home, it'll be Bobby's for a while where the four of them will take turns watching her; i.e. Bobby will watch her letting the three of them go, then Sam could stay behind and watch her letting Dean and Abigail go, then Abigail could stay behind letting Dean and Sam go, and even Dean could stay behind (but that would be unlikely of him, wouldn't it?)**

**Guest- Thank you so much! I _greatly _appreciate your kind words. Reading your review was what I needed to read this morning! Definitely made me smile! I hope to see you around! (:**


	12. Crossroad Blues

**WARNING: There WILL be smut in this chapter. If you aren't into it, feel free to skip it! (:**

* * *

_When your mind gets tired, and your heart grows cold._

_When you find yourself at the crossroads, just don't let go._

_When your mind gets tired, and your heart grows cold._

_When you find yourself at the crossroads, just don't lose hope._

_Look me right in the eyes, I promise everything will be alright._

_We are all in this fight, though the night may be dark a new day brings new light._

_Remember all the times, all the times you felt so alive._

_When all the pain subsides, lets go back there, take me back there._

_Hold on, cuz' you don't know what is going to happen._

_Stay strong, your life's worth more than you know._

* * *

_**November 1**__**st**__**, 2006**_

_**Diner—Morning**_

"So much for our low profile." Sam mused in a dissatisfied tone. I yawned out, holding my mug of coffee in my hands tiredly. Sitting beside Dean on the other side of the table, we stared at the back of Sam's laptop before he turned it in order for us to see a mugshot of Dean from the St. Louis Police Department, "You've got a warrant in St. Louis, and now you're officially in the Fed's database."

Dean leaned forward to inspect it, resting his elbows on the table as he gave us an amused grin from the news, "Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something." He joked lightly, glancing up to Sam as I laughed, taking a tentative sip of my coffee. We were sitting in a booth at some diner three hours outside Greenwood, Mississippi following a lead to a potential case there. It was a simple drop in, check it out, then if there was nothing there—get the hell out of Dodge. Between Sam and me, we'd been keeping tabs on FBI databases in search of anything on him, or a possible mention of myself. In which, there wasn't anything at the moment.

_Thank God_.

Sam was unamused by Dean's lightheartedness, "Dean, it's not funny." _It is funny_, "Makes the job harder," _Okay, so that part is true_, "We've gotta be more careful now."

I sat my mug of coffee down onto the table, "Well, what do they got on you?" I asked since I hadn't checked in a day or so.

"I'm sure they just haven't posted it yet." Sam muttered distractedly as he typed away on his keyboard.

"What, no accessory? Nothin'?" Dean quipped.

Sam glared at Dean, cheeks burning red with embarrassment, "Shut up."

I started to laugh softly at him, "You're jealous."

"No, I'm not!" Sam gave me a soft glare as Dean and I laughed good-naturedly before turning his eyes back onto his laptop. I stopped abruptly after I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when his eyes widened, "Uh-oh." Dean's laughter subsided, furrowing his brows.

"Uh-oh? What's _uh-oh_?" Dean questioned as Sam slowly turned the laptop around to reveal a sketch that barely resembled me as well as a few _old_ mugshots of when I was seventeen and nineteen. He sat back, blinking in surprise, "That-that's a _big_ uh-oh."

"No kiddin'." I said in a hushed tone, "You'd think one of them would've gotten trashed by now after I hit eighteen. What do they have?"

Sam shook his head as he turned it back around, "Not a whole lot. All they know is your alias—Janis Joplin." I pursed my lips in amusement upon seeing the corners of Dean's eyes crinkle from smiling. _That alias is older than the hills_. "Misdemeanor charges on vandalism, battery, assault, reckless driving, a few B and E's…" Sam listed off, "Then all that's said on Dean's is that he's suspected of traveling with a woman, though there is no conclusive evidence of _who_ she is." Judging by how old the mugshots were, and how disproportional my so-called sketch was, I think it was safe to say I wouldn't have been detected.

That didn't stop Dean from laughing, "Well, hell, now we _really_ gotta lie low."

"It's like we're a modern-day Bonnie and Clyde." I mused, nudging Dean in the side, "Awesome." He laughed, settling back into the booth and patted my thigh affectionately.

Sam's eyes narrowed at us, "Guys, this isn't funny."

"Uh-huh. Alright." Dean chuckled out, wiping an invisible tear from under his eye, "What do you got on the case there, you innocent, harmless young man, you?" Sam shut his computer, annoyed to say the least, and pulled out several pages of research.

"Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home—a condominium he designed." Sam read off, sounding surprised at the last part.

Dean hummed thoughtfully, "Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. That's classy."

I nodded, agreeing with him, "When did he call animal control?"

"Two days earlier." He informed us.

"Did he actually say 'Black Dog'?" I asked.

"Yeah. A vicious, wild, black dog." He read off, "The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it; in fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work, two days later he takes a swan dive."

I furrowed my brows, rubbing my left forearm subconsciously, "Somethin' about that doesn't sound right."

Dean frowned after glancing down to my arm, "Do you think we're dealing with an actual Black Dog?" He asked, "I mean, the one Dad, Abs and I dealt with back in Chicago was a nasty mother."

Sam shrugged, "Well, maybe."

"Alright, so refresh our memories, Sammy," I said running a hand down my face to wake myself up further, "It's been a while for us. What's the lore on it?"

Sam shook his head, passing us several pages, "It's all pretty vague. I mean, there are spectral black dogs all over the world, but... some say they're animal spirits, others say death omens. But anyways, whatever they are, they're big, nasty—"

"Yeah, I bet they could hump the crap outta your leg," Dean jested. I snorted with laughter, not really expecting it to be as loud as it was. I think it was mainly because I was so exhausted from the past few nights everything was starting to become a little more exaggerated—laughing included. "Look at that one, huh?" He held up a picture of a black dog and smirked; however, the withering look our brother gave us efficiently cut our smug laughter off, and like scolded children, we both bowed our heads forward, glancing to each other, "What? They could." The bitchface that had ahold of Sam remained unwavering.

* * *

_**Two and a half hours later  
**_

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Backcountry Road—Day**_

"You'd think as much coffee Abs drunk, she'd be wired," I said to Sam, glancing over to him. He turned his head to look at Abigail, who'd been asleep not even five minutes into the drive, with a sympathetic expression.

"You don't think she's getting nightmares again, do you?" He asked.

I kept a hand on the steering wheel while I kept an arm around Abigail's form, "Judging how I had to wake her up five times last night and three times the night before—my money's on _yeah_."

Sam's brows lifted in surprise, "That bad?"

I nodded, "Yeah, it's that bad."

"What do you think's causing them?" Sam asked.

"Dunno," I replied. We were quiet, weighing in the possibilities of why Abigail's nightmares were starting back. _What_ exactly was she dreaming about?

"Dean, you don't think…" Sam's voice faltered, "You don't think this has something to do with…you know, the demon?" An icy chill ran down my spine.

I gave him a sharp look, "No. Definitely not."

"But its demon related." He pointed out.

"How do you get that?" I asked.

Sam shrugged, "I don't know, I mean, every time she has a nightmare it has something to do with the demon, or it was demon related." I turned my eyes back onto the road, "Think about it, Dean. The night Jess died, she dreamt about her death and the demon was in her dream."

"Yeah, but that was just a—"

"Coincidence?" Sam interrupted, "Dean, how is it a coincidence when _I've _dreamt the same thing as her?" He asked, "On several occasions?" I rolled my eyes at my brother, he was beginning to get worked up. Sam let out an irritated breath, "She dreamt of her own death by that Max kid, or don't you remember?"

I shot him a cold look, "Of course I remember him." My grip tightened on the steering wheel, as well as my grip around Abigail, "Bastard."

"What I'm trying to say, is that Abigail might be picking up on things that we yet don't understand about demons." Sam continued, "It's obviously a premonition of some kind."

I remained silent, finding my eyes drift from the road, down to Abigail's sleeping form tucked under my right arm. In a way, I couldn't help but feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. _Was Abigail's nightmares really a connection to demons? Some kind of premonition, like Sam gets?_ "Okay," I began, "So hypothetically speaking Sam, if Abigail's nightmares _do _somehow connect to demon activity," I circled my right hand on Abigail's shoulder to emphasize my words, "What does it mean?"

Sam's shoulders lifted in a shrug, "I don't know."

I glanced at him a few times, incredulous, "You don't-you don't _know_?"

"You got a better idea?" I opened my mouth to speak when Abigail let out a choking sound. I pressed my foot on the brake, decelerating the car.

"Abs?" I asked, glancing down in alarm to see her face pull into a deep scowl. The right side of her body jerked causing me to look up at Sam. It didn't take long until it dawned on us that Abigail was beginning to have a nightmare.

In stunned silence, we watched for a moment longer seeing her face twist and contort into terrified expressions as a series of soft whimpers escaped her throat, "What should we do?" I heard Sam ask.

"Wake her up." I directed trying to find a place to pull over. Spotting a wide spot, I directed the Impala off of the road and stopped.

"Abs, hey," Sam said gathering her in his arms, "Wake up." She struggled in his grasp, muttering 'no' over and over again, "Hey, hey, hey—it's Sam. Abigail, you're having a nightmare. You need to wake up."

"Dogs…" She mumbled out, "_…_gonna kill me." I furrowed my brows at that, glancing up to Sam, mouthing 'Dogs? What dogs?' to him. He shrugged, confused by what she was muttering too.

"Abs," I said, taking her face in my hands, "Wake. Up." Her chest heaved like she'd been running, small whimpers becoming incoherent muttering, "Abs!" I raised my voice, and all at once, she jerked upwards with a shout, sitting straight up, her eyes snapping open—wider than they could get. She looked around wildly, moving her hands around her body before she realized that she was still in the car, "Are you okay?"

"Get me out!" Abigail said in a panicked voice. We hesitated, only for her to climb across Sam, practically falling out when the door swung open. It wasn't until she was out of the car, she was practically jogging alongside the road and running her fingers through her hair. _This had to be one hell of a nightmare for her to be acting like this_. Sam and I exchanged a worried look, soon getting out of the car to follow her.

"Abs! Abigail, are you okay?" I called out after her, closing the distance between us after she sank down ahead of me into a squat, "Hey." I said gently, approaching her from behind, reaching out to touch her shoulder. Her entire body stiffened at my touch.

"I just need a minute, Dean." She rasped out, "Just, one minute?"

I licked my lips, throwing a look to Sam from over my shoulder. He stared at us, concerned for Abigail. I gave him a curt shake of my head signaling things weren't good, but relented to Abigail's wish. With a sigh, I nodded, "Alright." I told her, gesturing to the car, "I'll be over there with Sam."

She nodded without as much as a glance our way, "A'ight." Turning, I heard Abigail start muttering under her breath. I paused out of curiosity, realizing what she was doing. _Praying?_ Abigail wasn't a religious person, but if she was praying, this dream of hers obviously bothered her to the point where she needed to do so. I walked back to Sam, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets and hung my head down.

"So?"

"So, what?" I asked, leaning against the bonnet of the Impala.

"Did she say anything?" Sam asked, "Is she okay?"

"Define _okay_," I stated, watching my fiancé, girlfriend or whatever you wanted to call Abigail run her hands through her hair over and over until they stopped at the base of her neck, "She's completely freaked out to the point where she's praying."

Sam turned his head towards me, holding a surprised expression, "Praying?" I gave him an affirmative nod, "She's not done that since…"

"We got her when her parents died and she freaked out on you in her sleep." I reminisced, seeing Sam dip his head in acknowledgement.

"I wonder what she dreamt about." He murmured.

"I'm afraid to ask." I said, keeping my eyes on her. Slowly, she stood up and turned. Her face was ashen like she'd been scared of something, and the look that her eyes held were dull and exhausted. When she joined us, she didn't sit between Sam and me like she did on several occasions. Instead, she stepped into me, wrapping her arms around my waist as tightly as she could and buried her face into my chest. I wrapped mine around her, looking over to Sam with furrowed brows. This deeply bothered me. My stomach knotted up with dread and anger. I was a failure, and there was _nothing_ I could do to keep Abigail from having these nightmares. It was literally a plague in which she suffered for it.

"Abs," I finally said, "Do you need to talk about it?"

We waited for a response from her, and I felt her right arm loosen around my waist before it went up to the amulet that hung from around my neck, making me relax when she slowly nodded her head against my shoulder. Sam and I didn't speak. We waited patiently for her to summon the courage to talk on her own. Remaining where she was at, I heard her let out a shuddering breath, "I was lost in this…old, abandoned minin' town. Sammy or you weren't there. There were these…people—regular people—and they were after me."

Sam frowned, glancing to me, "Then, I found myself at some…road?" Abigail looked up to me, then glanced over to Sam, "A crossroad. I was talkin' to someone—" She shook her head, "—I couldn't see who it was, and then these…_dogs_ or whatever the hell they were…they were sinful ugly…and they were chasin' me. I-I couldn't get away from them…and-and," Her voice cracked horribly, making me pull her against me, "I felt them tearin' at me. I felt _everythin'_."

My grip around her tightened, "You're okay now. It was just a dream."

"Dean, my dreams aren't just dreams. They've come true." She protested, "What if this becomes real?"

"It won't." I assured her, "Sam and I are here, and we're going nowhere."

Abigail looked up at me with furrowed brows. She was truly scared by her nightmare, "He's right, Abby." Sam said in a gentle tone, causing her to look over at him. Her body began to relax, "We're not going to leave you alone, or let you out of our sight."

Abigail swallowed hard, "Okay."

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Greenwood, Mississippi**_

_**Apartment—Day**_

In a posh, well-lit room, Sam and Dean wore suits while I stood in between them wearing a charcoal gray pencil skirt, a white button up shirt, and a pair of charcoal gray heels.

"So, you and Sean Boyden were business partners for almost ten years, right?" Sam asked.

The man we were interviewing nodded, "That's right. Now one more time, this is for...?"

"A tribute to Mr. Boyden—Architectural Digest." Dean informed him, only for the man to laugh.

I raised a brow at his cynicism, "Sir, is this funny to you?" His laughter subsided at my tone.

He then cleared his throat, "No, it... it's just, a tribute." He reclined the back of a leather sofa, "Yeah. See, Sean always got the tributes." He explained to us, "He kills himself, leaves me and his family behind..." His shoulders lifted in a half-shrug, "Well, he gets another tribute."

"Right." I smiled gently, "Any idea why he'd do such a thing?"

"I-I have no clue," The man replied, "I mean he lived a charmed life."

"How so?" Sam asked.

"He was a flat-out genius. I mean, I'm capable, but next to him, I..." His sentence faltered, "and it wasn't always that way, either."

Dean's brows pinched together, "No?"

"You wanna know the truth?" He asked, "There was a time where he couldn't even design a pup tent. Hell, ten years ago he's working as a bartender at this place called Lloyds—a complete dive."

"Right. So what changed?" I asked.

The man shrugged, "You got me. But overnight, he gets this huge commission, and he starts designing..." He explained, "He starts designing the most ingenious buildings anyone has ever seen. It was like, the level of Van Gogh, and Mozart..." Again, his sentence faltered.

"What?" Dean prompted.

"It's funny." He said, "True geniuses, they seem to die young, don't they? To have that kind of talent? Why... why just throw it away?" He glanced to each of us. We didn't have anything further to say or ask him. Bidding our farewell, we left the apartment complex, returning to the Impala where we stood.

"Okay, so what next?" Sam asked.

"Animal control," Dean said, "Maybe we'll find something out about a black dog, or see if they've caught any black dogs."

I folded my arms, giving the apartment complex another look, "I dunno. I'm not sure we're even dealin' with a black dog. It would've left signs—a trail."

Dean met my anxious look, "That's true, but we don't know anything more about this until we go talk to more people." I bit my lip, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, "Abigail, we know that dream of yours freaked you out pretty bad. You don't have to do this job if you don't want to. You can sit out."

"It's okay, really." Sam added.

I furrowed my brows, "I've dealt with worse. I can handle it." Dean and Sam exchanged a look, making me purse my lips at them, "I'm serious guys. I'm good."

Dean nodded, "Alright. Let's go find something out about Cujo." We all three piled into the car, pulling away from the curb in search of the Animal Protection Agency. Dean and I volunteered for the position, walking into the facility entirely unaware that my shirt had been unbuttoned to the point where a good deal of cleavage was visible—I was burning up beforehand. The secretary, whose name card read Carly, looked up from her screen at the front desk at us.

"May I help you?" She asked sweetly.

"I'm Agent Lorrie Morgan, and this is my colleague, Agent Keith Whitley…" I began, seeing Dean arch his brow at our name choices.

"Wait, like the country singers?" She asked.

I nodded, "Yes, exactly like the country singers." I replied, seeing her grin, "You must listen to country music a lot."

"I listen to them every now and then," Carly said giggling, "What can I do for you?"

"We're here with the FBI." We flashed our badges at her quickly, "We just wanted ask you a few questions pertainin' to several murder cases that involve a black dog sightin'?"

Carly sat back in her chair, straightening up, "Yes, well um, so far, we've been called all week with complaints about black dogs…I can print off a few papers, if you'd like Agents."

Dean grinned, "That'd be perfect."

Carly surprised us with an icy look in his direction, "Right away, _agent_." She told him, before smiling salaciously at me. My brows rose, realizing that was Carly batting for the other team; _my_ team. She was an attractive girl; she had a strong facial structure, pouty lips, and auburn cropped hair with lapis blue eyes to boot—Carly essentially reminded me of Scarlet Johansson. Typing away at her computer, she pressed enter and the printer whirred to life, "So, Agent Morgan, what do you like to do on your free time?"

Dean glanced at me, when I smiled at her sweetly, "Fishin', huntin', anythin' outdoorsy really. The occasional bar hopping."

Carly grinned, "Really? I do too! I love to kayak."

"Very therapeutic I hear," Dean chimed in, receiving another look from Carly.

"It is." She said curtly. I bit my lip to stifle a laugh, _this was too much fun_. I thought as the printer stopped, and Carly turned her back to get the papers. Dean turned his head to me pulling a face and I shrugged before she turned back around to face us.

"There's nineteen cases that has anything to do with big, black, and dog-like." She handed over the papers to Dean before looking me up and down.

"I have to ask…Carly, is it?" I asked, seeing her nod, "How old are you?"

She smiled, "Twenty-three." She gestured her head, "What about you?"

"Me?" I laughed, "Oh, I'm an old woman."

"No, you're not!" She said, "You're gorgeous! What are you? Twenty-four?"

"Twenty-seven, but thanks for boostin' my self-esteem." I joked as I glanced at my watch, "As much as I _really_ hate to do this, my partner and I have to leave." Carly's eyes widened slightly.

"Oh! Uh, hang on." She said quickly, "Let me give you my business-card so that if you have anymore questions, you know where to find me." Dean nodded.

"That's mighty kind of you, Carly." He said. Carly ignored him when she reached forward, getting a glance at my chest before picking up a business-card and scrawled something on the back and handed it to me. Finishing up, we exited the building. Sam was still in the car waiting on us, as Dean climbed in the driver's side and I in the backseat.

"So." Sam said expectantly.

"Secretary's name is Carly." Dean said, "She's twenty three,"

"She, likes kayaks, and they're real." I added, "Real nice girl."

"You didn't happen to ask her if she's seen any black dogs lately, did you?" Sam asked, irritated at our hijinks.

"Every complaint called in this week about anything big, black, or dog-like. There's nineteen calls in all." Dean handed Sam the page, scoffing, "Nice? She wouldn't bat an eyelash at me!" I smirked.

"That's 'cause she was battin' for the other team, sweetie." I teased holding up her business-card, "I got her number and…" I furrowed my brows at the second part, "I don't know what this thing is."

Sam took the card from my hand and laughed, "You mean Carly's MySpace address?"

"Yeah." I nodded.

"_MySpace_." Dean snorted out, "What the hell is that?" Sam started to laugh even more causing me to furrow my brows at him. Dean and I were so confused, "Seriously, is that like some sort of porn site?"

"Uh, no…" Sam said, "MySpace is like—"

"I'm not worried about it." I chirped out, waving my hand dismissively, "Let's just get back to the task at hand. We should start at the top of the list and work our way down, see if we can get any bites."

Dean and Sam nodded, "Sounds like a good plan," Dean said, turning the key to the ignition, "She was all over you."

I rolled my eyes, "Dean, hush."

"What?" He asked innocently, peering at me through the rearview mirror, "I'm just sayin' she got a good look at your chest, and got real cozy with ya."

"And that's supposed to mean?"

Dean waggled his brows suggestively, "She wanted you, if you know what I mean."

I shrugged, "Wouldn't be the first time." I said dismissively as Dean spluttered in shock after taking a sip of his coffee, twisting in his seat with wide eyes.

"_What_?" Dean deadpanned, "_When_?!"

"High school?" I said, "All's I'm sayin' is that you and Sammy ain't the only ones that's gotten 'cozy' with the womenfolk." I stated, seeing both men's faces turn redder than beets, "Thinkin' about it, Carly _did_ have a nice set of boobs, and I'd bet fifty buck that they were real." Dean shifted in his seat uncomfortably eliciting a laugh from me. It didn't take a rocket scientist to say that he was turned on, "But, that's the past." I patted Dean and Sam on the shoulders cheerfully, "Let's get to work."

"We've known you our entire lives and we didn't know that!" Dean chimed out, before letting out a groan, "High school would've been _so_ much better." He twisted around, "What did I miss out on?" Sam stared at him with a bitchface in place.

I smacked him upside the head playfully, "Drive, Dean."

Pouting, he did as I told and pulled away. It took a total of two and a half hours from start to halfway through the list, and so far, there was jack shit. All of the complaints have either been about a Pomeranian barking excessively, or a black German Shepard had gotten loose from its yard. With dead ends, Dean's temper was beginning to get short. Coming up to the residency of a woman by the name of Sylvia Pearlman. Approaching the residency's white door, I knocked.

"I swear, if this is another freakin' Pomeranian barking in the neighbor's yard..." Dean muttered under his breath when the door opened to reveal a young woman, "Afternoon, ma'am." He pulled out his ID, "Uh, Animal Control."

"Oh, someone already came yesterday." She told us.

I smiled at her sweetly, "We're just followin' up." I assured her, "We're looking for Dr. Sylvia Pearlman?" The woman gave us a look of uncertainty before she nodded, stepping aside to let us inside.

"The Doctor, well, she, I don't know exactly when she'll be back," She told us, "She left two days ago."

Sam nodded, "Okay. And you are...?"

"I'm Ms. Pearlman's maid."

"So where did the Doctor go?" Dean asked.

The maid shrugged, "I'm not sure. She just packed and went, she didn't say where. That stray dog, did you find it finally?"

My eyes flickered over to Dean and Sam, "Oh, not yet. You know, you didn't ever happen to see the dog yourself, did you?"

"Well, no." She said, "I never even heard it." Dean was investigating his surroundings, taking a photograph off the wall, "I was almost starting to think the Doctor was imagining things, but she's not like that, so..."

"Hey, you know I read she was, uh chief surgeon at the hospital." Dean stepped in, "She's gotta be what, forty two, forty three?"

"That's pretty young for that job." I mused.

Pearlman's maid nodded, "Youngest in the history of the place. She got the position... ten years ago?"

I blinked, beginning to start to piece things together, "Huh."

"An overnight success." Sam murmured, "Ten years ago."

"Yeah, we know a guy like that." Dean said, "Oh, look at this." He held up the photo, flipping it over to show the writing on the back, "Lloyd's Bar."

* * *

_**Lloyd's Bar**_

_**Crossroads—Day**_

Lloyd's bar was a tiny ramshackle establishment at the intersection of a crossroads. There were a few cars parked out front with a variety of shrubbery decorating around it. Parking in an empty spot not too far off from the bar, the three of us got out, intending on walking into the bar to find out what was common ground between Sean Boyden and Sylvia Pearlman.

"That's weird." Dean said, stopping in the middle of the road. I paused, looking to Dean curiously.

"What?" I asked, coming to his side to see yellow flowers—Yarrow—popping up in every corner of the crossroads. I turned to each corner with furrowed brows.

"Think someone planted these?" Dean suggested.

"Middle of all these weeds?" Sam asked, looking doubtful.

"These are, uh, what do you call 'em?" Dean asked, searching for the right word.

"Yarrow flowers?" Earning a nod from him.

"Yeah. Used for certain rituals, aren't they?" Dean asked.

Sam and I nodded, "Yeah, actually. Summoning rituals."

I looked to the bar, then to the flowers once more with a soft huff that could've been passed for a scoff, "So, two people become sudden successes about ten years ago. Right around the time they were hangin' out here at Lloyd's."

"Where there just happens to be a crossroads." Sam added, throwing us each a look of uncertainty, "You think?"

Dean tilted his head to the center of the road, "Let's find out." Following behind him, we stopped a few feet, looking around us, measuring our footage, "This seem about the dead center to you?" He asked.

"Close enough for government work." I told him, seeing his lips quirk up into a half-smile. Digging down a few inches into the hard soil, he stopped upon hitting something solid, eyes flickering to me and Sam, "Yahtzee."

I got down on my hands and knees, digging around the area in which Dean had dug, pulling out an old rusted box. I certainly felt an unsurmountable amount of uneasiness when I opened it to see it contents which consisted of; several small bones and a small stoppered jar, in which Sam reached out and held in his hands, inspecting it.

"I'd be willing to bet that's graveyard dirt." Sam said.

"And a black cat bone." I mused, picking up the small bone, "I mean, this is some serious spell work," I shook my head slowly before I looked up to Dean and Sam, "Like, Deep South Hoodoo stuff." I tossed the cat bone back into the container, "That squabble Dean and I had down in New Orleans ain't got shit on this." I summed up to Sam, whose brows rose in surprise and a sour look from Dean.

"So all of this stuff was used to summon a demon?" Sam asked, looking between Dean and me.

"Not just summon one." Dean began, helping me up to my feet, "Crossroads are where pacts are made. These people are actually making deals with the damn thing." I could hear the disgusted edge in his voice, "You know, 'cause _that_ always ends good." _Of course it doesn't._

Realization dawned on me, forming a nauseous pit in my stomach, "They're seein' dogs, alright—but not Black Dogs," I said, "They're seein' Hellhounds. Demonic pit bulls."

Dean nodded, "Yeah, whoever this demon is, it's back and it's collecting. And that doctor lady? Wherever she's running? She ain't running fast enough."

"So it's just like the Robert Johnson legend, right? I mean, selling your soul at the crossroads, kind of deal?"

"Yeah, except that wasn't a legend." Dean informed him, letting out a breathy, humorless laugh, "I mean, you know his music." Sam gave us a confused shrug that meant to say, _sorry but no,_ causing Dean to look over to me like I was supposed to have educated Sam on Robert Johnson's songs. He turned his head back to Sam, "You don't know Robert Johnson's songs?" Again, Sam shook his head innocently, "Sam, there's-there's occult references all over his lyrics!"

"Crossroad Blues?" I asked, seeing his innocent nod turn more into that of irritation, "Me and the Devil Blues? Hellhound on My Trail?" Sam frowned, still not familiar with the titles or the artist, which made Dean roll his eyes. I shrugged at Dean.

"The story goes, he died choking on his own blood. He was hallucinating, and muttering about big evil dogs." Dean elaborated.

"And now it's happening all over again." Sam concluded, earning a definitive nod from Dean as he placed his hand around my waist, looking down. At the amount of self-loathing I sensed from Dean, I couldn't help but feel my throat tighten under the sheer weight.

"Yeah." I spoke hoarsely, earning a look from Dean. _Had I picked up what he was wanting to say?_ It was obvious what…or should I say _who_ he was thinking about. John. _Dad_. I forced myself to look in a different direction when the thought of him invaded my mind. _Not here. Not now._

"We've gotta figure out if anyone else struck any bargains around here." Sam assessed, even though I barely heard a word he said. I found myself trailing back to the hole Dean had dug—the center of the crossroads—where the box remained opened. _What if the reason I'm still here is because John made a deal for me and Megan?_ There was a painful tug in my chest at the thought of John dying because of me. _Me_ of all people. _Why?_

The muscles in my jaw ticked. That nightmare meant something bad was going to happen, that _I_ was going to make a deal, and die for it—ripped to shreds by these Hellhounds.

"Great. So we've gotta clean up these peoples' mess for 'em?" I felt Dean's anger rise with each passing second forming knots in my stomach, making me glance to him anxiously. "I mean, they're not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced 'em to play 'Let's Make A Deal'!"

Sam let out a scoff, "So what, we should just leave them to die?"

"Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save 'em?" Dean returned angrily. I jumped a hair when I heard a series of snarls follow behind his angry outburst, gripping his jacketed arm tightly.

Sam noticed, "Dean…"

His eyes flickered from Sam to me, seeing my ghastly complexion. Feeling his body relax against me, Dean let out a defeated sigh, "Alright. Fine." He said holding up a photo he had picked up from the metal box, "Rituals like this, you've got to put your own photo into the mix, right? So this guy probably summoned this thing, let's go and see if anyone inside knows him. _If_ he's still alive." Silently, I nodded, beginning to turn to head back to the Impala until Dean caught my elbow. I bit my lip, bowing my head and closed my eyes, "You alright?"

I swallowed hard, blinking away tears. _Why was I starting to cry?_ "Yeah," I nodded, "I'm alright."

Dean's brows knitted together in speculation, "It doesn't look like it."

I saw Sam staring at me in the same fashion, which really irked me, "I said I'm fine." I told them dismissively, forcing down the fear that had gripped me tight, "Nothin' to worry about."

"You look like you're about to pass out, Abigail." Sam pointed out.

I looked to both men, "I always look like I'm gonna pass out. 's what I get for not sleepin' like a regular human bein'." Dean tilted his head to the side like I had a valid point. One was thrown off my trail. We stood like a bunch of idjits in the middle of the crossroads, staring at one another, "C'mon, we're wastin' daylight."

* * *

_**Darrow Home—Day**_

The apartment to George Darrow was on the fourth floor of some dark and dank apartment building—complete opposite of Sean Boyden and Sam's old apartment.

"What's this guy's name again?" Sam asked.

"George Darrow." I told him, "Apparently quite the regular at Lloyd's. Though this house probably ain't up next on 'MTV Cribs', is it?"

"Yeah." He agreed with a soft laugh, "So whatever kind of deal he made—"

"Wasn't for cash." Dean finished, "Who knows? Maybe this place is full of babes in Princess Leia bikinis." He grinned, nudging me in the side playfully. I returned the playful gesture with a nudge from my hips, knowing _exactly_ what he was getting at. Seeing how yesterday was Halloween, he'd practically _begged_ me to get a Princess Leia outfit. The only way I would wear it was it if he'd gotten a Han Solo outfit, and he delivered. Sam let out a huff, therefore Dean continued, "I'm just saying, this guy's got one epic bill come due. Hope at least he asked for something fun."

Upon reaching the landing on the fourth floor, we came to a stop in front of apartment 4C. Seeing a fine black powder dusted in front of it, I stared at it curiously, "Huh. Look at that." I crouched down, running my fingers through a small portion and inspected it.

"What is that, _pepper_?" Dean asked, getting ready to put it up to his nose around the time the door opened, revealing a middle-aged man with graying hair, wearing a grimy t-shirt and open button-down.

"Who the hell are you?" When I looked up to him, I fell backwards out of horror. The man's face contorted hideously, mouth opening wide and eyes rolling back in his head like some creature.

"George Darrow?" I squeaked out, trying to remain calm (for the most part).

His stretching face returned, working itself into another odd shape, "I'm not buying anything."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, looks like you went for the wrong shaker there." Dean said rising to his feet, "Usually when you want to keep something evil out you go for the salt."

I blinked, squeezing my eyes shut as I did so, and opened them to see George Darrow's face return to normalcy. He gave us each a steely look, "I don't know what you talkin' about."

"Talkin' about this." Dean held up the small photograph of Darrow. Upon seeing it, Darrow's face blanched, "Tell me…you seen that Hellhound yet?"

"We want to help." Sam said quickly in order to bring up a different tactic other than scaring him, "Please. Just five minutes."

"Five minutes, and then you're gone." George finalized. His gaze fell back on me, as I stared at him from the floor, "You gonna get up or stay down there, missy?"

Dean and Sam turned slightly to see me on the floor. They must've not caught my bout of terror due to the both of them extending their hands so that I could grab ahold and get pulled to my feet. When Darrow turned to retreat back into his apartment, Sam followed him in, leaving Dean and I hanging back. His eyes held mine with question and concern swirling around leaving me to reassure him in a tight lipped smile.

Walking into the apartment, I had to glance to Darrow again to make sure I wasn't seeing things again. Thankfully, it didn't happen again when he closed the door behind Dean and went ahead to a table where he poured himself a glass of whiskey. Around us, the inside of the cramped apartment was filled with paintings; completed and half-finished alike. The table where the bottle of whiskey sat held painting supplies.

_Darrow wanted to be an artist…_I thought.

"So what is that stuff out front?" Sam asked curiously as George took a swallow of his drink.

"Goofer Dust. S'posed to keep demons out, right?" I answered dismissively, meeting Dean and Sam's blank look, and George's impressed look.

"Correct." George said, "I like you, missy." He commented pointing his glass of whiskey to me, then turned to the boys—whose faces clearly read confusion—and raised a brow at them, "You mean to tell me, you boys think you know somethin' about somethin' but not Goofer dust?" Dean looked from Sam to me, almost like a chided kid that he didn't know that answer. George turned to pick up something and tossed it to Dean. It was a brown sack, tied closed with twine.

"Well, we know a little about a lot of things." Dean replied, studying the brown sack in his hand, "Just enough to make us dangerous."

"What is it?" Sam asked, eyes flitting to me and George in search of an answer.

"Hoodoo." I replied, "_Mamaw _Missouri has some."

"My grandma taught me—keeps out demons." Darrow added.

Dean let out an amused chuckle, "Demons we know."

"Well, then. Maybe it'll do you some good." Darrow told him as he walked over to a chair and sat down, "Four minutes left." Dean threw Sam and I a look, signaling one of us to take the lead.

"Mr. Darrow, we know you're in trouble." Sam said gently.

"Yeah, that you got yourself into." Dean added unhelpfully. Sam shot his brother a withering look.

"But it's not hopeless, alright?" Sam stated, directing it more towards Dean than Darrow, "There's gotta be something we can do."

"Listen, I get that you three want to help. But sometimes a person makes their bed, they've just got to lie down in it." George told us, "I'm the one called that demon in the first place."

"What'd you do it for?" I asked.

He looked over to me, exhaustion reeking off of him, "I was weak." He began, "I mean, who don't want to be great? Who don't want their life to mean something? I just... I just never thought about the price."

"Was it worth it?" Dean asked.

George's face pulled into a horrifying state again, making me avert my eyes to a nearby painting, "Hell no." Came his answer, "'Course, I asked for talent. Shoulda gone for fame." He chuckled half-heartedly, "I'm still broke, and lonely. Just now I got this pile of paintings don't nobody want. But that wasn't the worst."

"Go on." Sam urged.

"Demon didn't leave." He said, "I never counted on that. After our deal was done the damn thing stayed at Lloyd's for a week. Just chattin'. Makin' more deals. I tried to warn folks, but, I mean who's goin' to listen to an old drunk?"

"How many others are there?" I asked, still avoiding George's face.

"Uh, the architect, that doctor lady — I kept up with them, they've been in the papers." He answered, "Least they got famous."

"Who else, George?" Dean urged him, "Come on, think."

"One more." The man said, "Uh, nice guy too. Hudson. Evan, I think. I don't know what he asked for. Don't matter now. We done for."

"No." Sam said stubbornly, "No, there's gotta be a way."

"You don't get it!" George said sharply, "I don't want a way!"

"Look, you don't –" Sam began, only to stop midsentence when I touched his arm. He looked over to me, fuming.

"I called that thing! I brought it on myself." George tapped his chest, "I brought it on them. I'm going to hell, one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting. Day or two, I'm done. I'm just trying to hold them off 'till then. Buy a little time." He glanced to the clock, "Okay, boys. Time you went, go help somebody that wants help."

"We can't just —" Sam started again.

His pleads fell upon deaf ears, "Get out! I got work to do."

"You don't really want to die." Sam said.

George looked to Sam, intrigued, "I don't? I'm..." he paused, "I'm tired. Now if you excuse me." We turned to leave as George picked up his painting palette and paintbrush, dabbing it in paint, "And missy?" I paused, turning to look at George warily, "I know you can see what I see…" He looked up from his painting at me and pointed the tip of the paintbrush in my direction, "Don't go near the crossroads."

* * *

_**Hudson House—Night**_

I let out another waning yawn, "Ya'll reckon that this Evan Hudson will be any different?"

"Dunno till we talk to the guy," Dean said as we approached the front door to Evan's house. It didn't take nearly as long to find the place through the internet. Sam knocked and a moment later, Evan opened the door.

"Yes?"

"Evan Hudson?" I asked. Silent, he nodded, eyes flickering over to each of us cautiously.

"You ever been to a bar called Lloyd's?" Dean asked, "Would have been about ten years ago." A surge of terror spiked through me as Evan slammed the door and latched it. "Come on, we're not demons!" Dean called out, irritated.

Sam arched his brow at us, "Any other bright ideas?"

Dean splayed his hands out in exasperation before he stepped back, set himself into position, then kicked the door down in one go. He gestured for me to go in first, "And they say chivalry is dead." I said, entering the house. Dean quirked his lips in a haughty smirk when we heard another door slam shut. With raised brows, Dean went up to the door, glancing back at me to see if this was the one. I nodded, seeing him prepare to kick the door down also, until Sam caught his leg, stopping him.

"Wait—" Sam hissed out, looking to Dean and I pointedly, then turned the handle, pushing the door open gently. The room was quiet…for the most part, "Evan?"

There was rustling from behind a bookshelf as Evan jumped out, hands splayed out with fear plastering his face, "Please! Don't hurt me."

"We're not going to hurt you, alright?" Sam said in a gentle, coaxing tone, "We're here to help you."

"We know all about the genius deal you made." Dean pointed out.

Evan looked to Dean, then to Sam, then to me and back, "What? How?"

"Doesn't matter." I said, "All that matters is, we're tryin' to stop it."

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"Well, you don't," I replied, "but you're kinda runnin' low on options there, buddy-boy." Evan swallowed after taking a shaky breath and started to pace around the room.

"Can you stop it?" He asked.

"Don't know." Sam answered, "We'll try."

"I don't want to die." Evan said.

"Of course you don't," Dean said sardonically, "Not now."

"Dean. Stop." I spoke gently, eliciting no change from him.

"What'd you ask for anyway, Evan? Huh? Never need Viagra? Bowl a perfect game? What?" Evan glared at him, his eyes telling a different story while Dean didn't stop there.

"My wife."

Dean scoffed causing more than just his cynicism boil in my stomach, "Right. Gettin' the girl. Well, that's worth a trip to hell for."

"Dean, _stop_." I snapped, effectively cutting Dean off his little tirade. He stared at me, stunned.

"No." Evan began, "He's right, I made the deal. Nobody twisted my arm, that... woman, or whatever she was, at the bar? She said I could have anything I wanted. I thought she was nuts at first, but... I don't know how to— I was desperate." Evan said, shaking his head solemnly.

Sam's brows were furrowed, "Desperate?"

Evan nodded his head, "Julie was dying."

Dean's cynical demeanor lost its edge, "You did it to save her?"

"She had cancer, they'd stopped treatment, they were moving her into hospice, they kept saying... a matter of days." Evan explained, "So yeah, I made the deal. And I'd do it again. I'd have died for her on the spot." I swallowed hard. He sacrificed himself for his wife, for _love_. Something we'd known all too well.

"Did you ever think about her in all this?" Dean asked sharply.

"I did this for her." Evan snapped back.

"You sure about that?" The tone of Dean's voice had gotten darker as he took a step in towards the shorter man, "I think you did it for yourself… So you wouldn't have to live without her. But guess what? She's going to have to live without _you_ now." I took a few steps to place myself between Dean and Evan, placing a hand on Dean's chest to prevent him from trying anything rash. Dean was literally shaking with anger, "What if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your _soul_? How do you think she'd feel?"

"Okay, that's enough, Dean." I told him in a soft voice, seeing his eyes narrow to Evan before they fell on me, "C'mon." I urged, lowering my hand from his chest to his hand where he encircled it with his fingers.

"You just sit tight, alright?" Sam said to Evan, "We're going to figure this out." We walked into the hallway, "You alright?" He asked.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Dean asked. I rolled my eyes, seeing through his macho-man bravado, knowing good and well he wasn't. He was livid, "Abs, I'm fine." He said, trying to sway my look. When I folded my arms and arched my brow like a scolding mother, his bad-ass demeanor dropped, as well as his eyes as they went to the floor. There it was. The anxiety. The fear. The uncertainty. It all bared itself after being swallowed by hollow anger, "I don't see the point of saving that guy's ass after he was the one who crocheted the noose and put it around his neck." He finally said, looking up to Sam and me, "He's a selfish bastard."

Sam and I let out a noise that was something between a scoff and a huff of breath, "_Selfish_?" We asked him in chorus.

"Dean, what's selfish about Evan doing what he did?" Sam asked, incredulous, "If anything, he did it for his _wife_."

"His wife is going to be alive, _and alone_! How isn't that selfish?" Dean challenged.

Sam's lips twisted into a snarky smirk, "If I remember correctly, when Abigail was in the coma, _you_ were being a selfish asshole and couldn't let her go." Dean's jaw set, eyes narrowing at him in a murderous look. If he wasn't pissed then, he was pissed now.

"Shut up." He growled out.

"So, you mean to tell me if that was us, _you_ wouldn't have done the same?" I asked in an attempt to get a response from him. His head snapped to me, eyes flashing.

"No." _Liar._ "I'd find another way, and there _was_ another way. You came back." He answered.

"And as a result, Dad died." I pointed out, seeing his body stiffen at my words, "Coincidence? I think not." Seeing how Dean wasn't in a talking mood, I looked over to Sam, "I got an idea."

"What is it?"

"One or two of us stay behind; it can be you and Dean, me and you, or just you. Throw George's hoodoo at the Hellhound to keep it away from Evan as long as you can." Sam glanced over to Dean, who was listening, "One or two of us goes to the crossroads and summon the demon."

"Summon— are you nuts?" Sam exclaimed.

I shrugged, "Maybe a little."

Dean shook his head, "No. Absolutely not." _Of course you'd shoot that idea down._

"I can trap it. I can exorcise it, and I can buy us time to figure out somethin' more permanent." I argued, "Why not?"

"I'll do it," Dean said, "You can stick with Sam, give him cover from the Hellhounds."

"Guys…" Sam began to say, only to be interrupted.

I raised a brow at him, "I'm perfectly capable of doin' this on my own, Dean. _You_ need a book to say an exorcism, _I_ don't. I can get through it quick, fast, and in a hurry."

"I don't care—" Dean started to speak.

"Guys!" Sam raised his voice causing Dean and I to look at him, "How much time are we talking about, Abigail?"

"I don't know, a while." I answered, throwing Dean a glare, "I mean, it's not easy for those fuckers to claw their way back from hell and into the sunshine."

Sam shook his head, "No. No way."

"You're not allowed to say no, Sammy," Dean said, "Not unless you've got a better idea."

"Guys, you can forget it, alright?" Sam stated, "I'm not letting _neither _of you summon that demon."

I furrowed my brows, "Why not?"

"Because I don't like where your heads are at right now, that's why not." Sam snapped.

Dean rolled his eyes, "What are you talking about?"

"You know, you've been on edge ever since we found that crossroads, Dean," Dean's eyes flew up to the ceiling once more, "And you, Abigail, haven't been right since you had that nightmare _about_ the crossroads _and_ the Hellhounds." I lifted my chin up, clenching my jaw, "They were after you. Hell, neither of you have been right since…"

"I get it." I snapped.

"Do you?" Sam asked incredulously earning a scoff from me, "I know why the both of you are acting like this."

Dean shifted, shaking his head, "We don't have time for this." He brushed past Sam.

"Dad." Dean stopped.

"Here we go again," I muttered.

"You two think maybe Dad made one of these deals, huh?" The look in Dean's eyes answered Sam's question. "Hell, I've been thinking it. I'm sure _you've_ been thinking it, and Abigail's been preaching it since she's been out of the coma."

"It fits, doesn't it?" I implored stiffly, "Megan and I's alive, Dad's dead. There's no other way 'round it."

"The yellow-eyed demon was involved." Dean added, "What if he did?"

Sam refused to look at the both of us. We were practically ganging up on him, "What if he struck a deal? Mine and Megan's life for his soul?" A series of snarls were heard outside, causing me to stiffen, "I hear 'em." Dean and Sam's eyes widened, "They must be outside."

Dean turned to Sam, "Just keep him alive, okay?" He grabbed my arm, pulling me behind him down the hallway.

"Guys..." Sam hissed out.

I waved him to the room, "Go!" Dean and I were in the Impala in no time at all, the tires screeching as we pulled away from Evan's house and barreling towards Lloyd's bar. In the process of doing so, I leaned forward, reaching into the glove box where I pulled out two IDs; mine and Dean's…you know one for backup. I clipped the cards in half, so that only our photos were left.

"I don't even know why I let you go with me." Dean muttered.

"Because you need backup." I answered.

The plan was to let Dean summon the crossroads demon while I stayed nearby in the woods. The car slowed to a stop; giving us a good walk to the crossroads. The glow of the lights to the bar could be seen off in the distance.

"So does Sam—he can't see things like you can." I gave him a sharp look, tossing the scissors back into the glove box along with the other halves of the ID cards.

"Guess that makes me selfish then." I said flippantly, seeing him give me a soft look. Dean twisted in the seat, reaching his arm around the headrest to look at me.

"Abs, listen to me. Things haven't been right since Dad died…you know that." He said.

"You called a man _selfish_ for tryin' to save his wife Dean, yet you would've done the same thing." I stated, "Do I believe that you wouldn't?" I shook my head, "Not for one damn second. If you knew the answer to savin' my life, savin' Megan's life, or savin' Sammy's life was to dig you a hole and summon a demon, you'd do it in a heartbeat."

Dean's eyes went from the space between us to my face, "You're twisting—"

I held my hand up to silence him, "You know why? 'Cause I'd do the same damn thing, and never think twice about it." Dean's resigned look justified my answer. I leaned forward, kissing him on the lips gently, which stunned him for a minute. His arm unwound from the headrest, wrapping them both around me as he pulled away by just a hair.

"You know me better than I know myself sometimes," he muttered, bringing his lips back down onto mine. There was an unmistakable sound of handcuffs clicking together, causing him to rear back suddenly to discover his wrist had been handcuffed to the steering wheel.

"Which is why I beat you to the punchline," I said.

Dean stared at the cuffs like a deer caught in headlights, "Son of a…" He turned to look at me with wide eyes. Betrayed. He was still reeling by what I had done, causing me to slip out from the car after taking the keys out and shut the door, "Abigail, don't you do it!" I heard him call out as I rounded the back of the car to get the duffel bag, "No! Abs!" I kept walking, "I can't lose you! Not again! What about Megan?" I scrunched my face trying my best to ignore his plead, "I love you! Abigail, _please._ Don't do this."

I paused, looking over at him to see his face blanched with wide-eyed fear, "You should've let me die, Dean. This is unnatural."

"Then I guess that makes me a selfish bastard for loving you!" He shouted, "So help me Colt if you don't un-cuff me, you better run!" I smirked, watching him jerk and pull at the cuffs, "When I get loose, I'm kicking your ass and leaving you at Bobby's!"

"Well then, I suggest you get to tryin'." I told him, "I'll be back in the matter of minutes, then you're free to bitch." I finished, shouldering the duffel bag. I heard him shuffling inside the car cursing to himself about me in search for some kind of instrument to get loose with, and ultimately kicking my ass.

"…fucking _succubus_!" I heard Dean curse out in hopes I had heard him. He was absolutely terrified. It was like an icy vice-grip around my heart. The look of stunned betrayal was enough to make my steps falter in hesitation. I couldn't look back now, for I had already started something I couldn't finish.

_Eye of the Tiger, Abigail_.

* * *

Placing a photo of myself into the old metal box that had belonged to George, I buried it dead center at the crossroads, scraping the dirt over it with his hands. _So this was my dream_. Like I had said, it was coming true. _They always come true at some point_. I thought, standing up to see a woman in a black dress staring at me. Her façade dissipated in the matter of seconds revealing the creature that she truly was.

"So. What brings a girl like you to a place like this?" She questioned, "You called me?"

"I'm just glad it worked." I answered truthfully.

The demon grinned, "First time?"

"You could say that." I said, shrugging my shoulders half-heartedly.

"Oh, come on now. Don't sell yourself short. I know all about you, Abigail Colt." The demon's eyes glowed fire engine red, "And I know all about your daughter with Dean Winchester."

"So, you know who I am." I stated, not really feeling surprised about the information.

"I get the newsletter." She replied tapping her head, "That and everyone know your family history. Tragic stuff."

I crossed my arms, "Well, don't keep me in suspense sunshine. What have you heard?"

"Well, I heard you were piece of work, but…" The demon did an onceover, "You're just edible. Dean's a lucky man. What can I do for you, Abby?"

"Why don't we take a stroll? Moon's out," I offered, seeing the demon look up for a second.

"Ooh, never thought the great Abigail to be a romantic." She purred out, "Dean must turn to Jell-O."

"So I was hopin' we could strike a deal." I said ignoring that statement as the demon and I strolled up the road.

"That's what I do." She answered coyly.

I stopped, "I want Evan Hudson released from his contract."

The crossroad demon hummed, "So sorry, darling. That's not negotiable."

"I'll make it worth your while." I told it, seeing her look at me with consideration.

"Oh really? What are you offering?"

_The punchline_? I splayed my arms out before letting my hands slap my thighs, "Me."

"Well, well, well." She cooed out, "You'd sacrifice your life for someone else's. Like fathers, like daughter." I eyed her warily.

"You did know about your dad's deal, right? Steven?" I furrowed my brows, "That's another juicy story for later." Her smile widened, "How about your adopted daddy, John?" I clenched my jaw, "Now _that's_ the story you need to hear. He traded his life for yours." _So I was right_. I got so nauseous, "Oh, I didn't make the deal myself, but... boy, I wish I had."

I gritted my teeth, continuing to walk with the demon.

"A Devil's Trap?" I blinked, realizing that she had stopped in front of a white trap I had set up earlier, "You've got to be kidding me." She deadpanned, before letting out a pained hiss. Again, her eyes glowed red, "You stupid, stupid... I should rip you limb from limb." As she advanced towards me, I backed up towards a wooden structure—an old watershed.

"Take your best shot." I told her when she came close.

Instead, the demon paused, "No. I don't think so. I'm not going to put you out of your misery."

"Yeah? Why not?" I challenged.

"Because yours and Dean's misery is the whole point. It's too much fun to watch." She sneered, "Knowing how your dads—both of them—died for you. How John sold his soul. "I mean, that's gotta hurt." I remained eye contact even when I was backed up a wooden railing, "It's all you ever think about. It's all Dean ever thinks about. The both of you wake up and your first thought is, _I can't do this anymore_—even with your bouncing baby girl in the hospital. She wasn't supposed to live either."

"That's because John—"

"_Didn't_ do it." She stepped in, "Only you. You're all lit up with pain, Abigail, to the point that your little pill addiction isn't helping anymore."

I glared at her, "I've stopped usin'-"

"Have you?" She asked in a matter of fact tone, "What do I know? I'm just a crossroads demon." The demon smiled, "Abigail, you loved your family and John _so_ much, and as a result, it's all your fault." I recoiled back when she got more in my face, "You blew it, Abigail! I could have given you what you need."

I glared at her, "What do I _need_?"

"John. Your family. The ooey-gooey, warm and fuzzy feeling of false-security. " She stated, "I could have brought them back, you know." With an empathetic shrug, she turned, "Your loss. Seeya, Abigail. I wish you a nice long life with Dean and your baby."

"Hold on." Dean's voice came from behind her. My eyes widened as the demon turned towards him with a knowing grin.

"_Dean Winchester_." She greeted with an appraising look, "They said you were handsome, but you're downright scrumptious."

"Is it true?" Dean asked, "Can you bring him back? My dad and Abigail's family?"

"Of course I can." She said to him, "Just like they were. Your dad would live a long and natural life—like he was meant to. Just like Abigail's family was supposed to."

Dean's eyes met mine for a split second, "Dean…" I said warningly, "I got this."

"What about me?" He asked, "Take Abigail off the hook."

I clenched my jaw, tears brimming in my eyes, "_Dean._" He ignored me.

"I could give you ten years. Ten _long_, good years with him, Abigail and your daughter. That's a lifetime." My heart sank sensing his consideration, "The family can be together again. John, Dean, Sammy—the Winchester boys all reunited." She gestured to me, "Along with the Colts. Happy little life. The two of you could watch your daughter grow up into a rambunctious little heart-breaker—just like her dad." She took a step towards Dean, "Look. Your dad's supposed to be alive. Abigail's supposed to be dead. So we'll just set things straight, put things back in their natural order, and you get ten extra years on top with Abigail-that's a bonus."

When she got very close to him; too close for comfort, he turned and walked farther back, "You think you could throw in a set of steak knives?" He asked, turning back around to face her.

The demon took another step forward, "You know, this smart-ass self-defense mechanism of yours..." Her sentence fell flat, as she stopped and looked up. Meeting her skyward gaze, I smirked seeing the hidden Devil's Trap that I had placed, "Dean!" She said slowly, a verbal warning.

I straightened up, shifting my shoulders and stepped out of range of the circle, "Now you're really trapped. That's gotta hurt."

Her eyes flashed red, "Let me out. Now."

"Sure." Dean said, "We just gotta make a little deal here first. You call off your Hellhounds and let Evan go. Then we'll let you go."

"I can't break a binding contract." She said.

"Liar." I said, "By _can't_, you mean, _don't want to_." Her eyes flitted from Dean to me in a murderous glare, "_Last chance_, sunshine. Evan and his wife get off Scotch-free and live to a ripe old age."

"Going, going…" Dean drawled out.

"Let's talk about this." The demon said quickly.

Dean turned his eyes on me, "Okay, gone."

"What are you doing?" She demanded, looking between Dean and I as I circled around her, holding a rosary.

"Oh, you're just gonna go on a little trip." Dean said, "Way down South."

"Forget Evan. Think of your dad." She said, "Think of your family, Abigail."

"_Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino qui fertis ascendit_, _super caelum caeli ad Orientem. Ecce dabit voci suae. vocem virtutis, tribuite virtutem deo…"_ I spoke quickly, watching unflinchingly as the demon began to flinch and convulse out of pain, "_Deus caeli, Deus terrae, humiliter majestati gloriae Tuae supplicamus ut ab omni infernalium spirituum potestate, laqueo, deceptione et nequitia, omnis fallaciae, libera nos, Domine. Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis. Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei—_"

"Wait!" She cried out. I stopped, furrowing my brows and glanced to Dean. He stared at me, before lunging forward.

"Abs!" He shouted, causing me to turn. The demon pulled me into a passionate kiss. She broke it as I stumbled back, blinking.

"What the hell was that for?" I snapped, incredulous and violated at the same time. I scrubbed my mouth with the back of my sleeve.

"Sealing the deal." The demon said.

"I usually like to be warned before I'm violated with demon tongue." I muttered, seeing her roll her eyes.

"Evan Hudson is free. He and his wife will live long lives." She said.

"How do I know you're not lying?" Dean asked.

"My word is my bond."

"Oh, really?" He asked, turning his eyes to me. I nodded minutely, still wiping at my mouth.

"It is when I make a deal. It's the rules." The demon said, "You two got what you wanted. Now let me go." Dean and I stepped back, glancing up at the Devil's Trap. I fingered the rosary in consideration, "You're gonna double-cross me?" The demon deadpanned, "Funny how I'm the trustworthy one." Dean shrugged, "You know, you renege? Send me to hell? Sooner or later I'm gonna climb out, and skinning Evan Hudson, along with _you_, Abigail, will be the first thing that I do."

I smiled smugly, stashing the rosary away as Dean climbed up and broke the protective circle above her head. She stepped out.

"I gotta tell you. You would have never pulled that stunt if you knew."

"Knew what?" Dean asked warily.

"Where your dads are." The demon said evenly, "You should have made that deal, Abby." Dean looked over his shoulder at me, "See, people talk about hell, but it's just a word. It doesn't even come close to describing the real thing."

"Shut your mouth, bitch." Dean growled out, a threat coating his words.

"If you could see your poor daddy? Hear the sounds he makes 'cause he can't even scream?" She sneered out.

Enraged, Dean advanced towards her, "How about I send you back there?"

Throwing her head back, black smoke billowed out of her mouth as she screams. Dean backed up, pulling me behind him in the process until we were against the structure again, "Is it gone?"

I looked up into the black night sky, "Yeah, I think so."

The girl who was the demon's host slumped to the ground, "What... how did I get here?" She asked, looking to us. Dean and I glanced to each other.

"We found you out here." Dean said quickly, "You were knocked out." Her eyes widened, "You okay?"

She looked down at herself, "Yeah…I think so?"

I shrugged my jacket off, shivering at the chill in the night air, "Here, you must be cold."

Accepting it, she shrugged the jacket on, "Thanks…"

Dean glanced up to the lights of Lloyd's bar, "We can give you a ride back to the bar, let you phone someone."

The girl nodded, "Thanks, I appreciate it." After taking her to the bar, we parted ways with the girl. We drove out a little ways before Dean slowed back down to a stop, letting the car idle and the headlights shine down the road until the shadow of night stopped it. Neither of us spoke, nor did we move. That was until I slowly reached down to the buckle on the seatbelt, unlatching it, and slid across the seat in order to feel some kind of contact with him. Dean remained still, tilting his head down slightly as he watched me silently move his arm around my shoulders.

With the car still idling, Dean reached forward with his left hand, switching the key back and took it out, the heat from inside the car diminished quickly with the coolness of night. In no time, the windows were beginning to fog up from the humidity in our breaths. He then reached between him and me, unbuckling his seatbelt. There was a feeling of hopelessness that hung above us like a thick, angry storm cloud, and a sense of overwhelming loss that was so strong, it tightened my throat. Wrapping an arm around him, my hand bunched the hem of his shirt. Dean's arm tightened out of reassurance, feeling his left hand tilt my chin up, kissing me on the lips gently.

Thousands of butterflies flew around in my stomach, doing loop-de-loops and aerobatics with just that one, gentle kiss. Moving my lips against his in the light of the moon shining overhead provided us the only guiding light as it became more intimate. Not breaking the kiss, I shifted out of the seat and over, so that I was basically straddling his lap, feeling his hands move from my face down to my hips. I managed to capture Dean's bottom lip, nibbling and sucking as lightly as I could, eliciting a groan from him before he moved his own onto my neck. Again, his hands found their way back to my face, holding one on one side and the other entangling itself in my hair as he kissed along my jawline and finally on my neck where I wistfully craned my neck to side, allowing him access to more skin—it was one of my biggest weaknesses. This time, I hissed out when his teeth barely grazed my collarbone and tugged at my roots, causing me to press myself tighter against his body.

Ever since we decided on our 'slow build' agreement, Dean and I had found different and delicious ways of finding pleasure; each way was just as enticing as the next. Dean had been a good sport about it, always taking his time and focused on one place or multiple places. Tonight, however, all bets were off. With nervous hands, like back when I was twenty-one, my hands fumbled at the hem of his shirt after pushing his jacket and button up shirt off his shoulders. Dean's hands left me only for a moment as he rid himself of his two layers of clothing, returning to my waist where he slid his hands up my shirt, slowly dragging his fingertips across the plains of my stomach and curvature of my back. Lifting his shirt up and over his head, Dean's eyes simmered in the light of the moon, catching on quickly to the reason why he was shirtless.

"Abs…" He swallowed hard, licking his lips as he grew surprisingly tentative and cautious, as if this was our first time, "Are you sure?" I nodded, running my fingernails down his chest experimentally, seeing goosebumps pucker across his skin.

"Yeah…I'm sure." My voice barely a whisper. His hands found themselves fingering at the hem of my shirt before finally deciding on lifting it up and over my head, exposing the lacy, black bra I had on underneath. Tossing it somewhere in the car, his hands returned to my skin, traveling down the sides of my body, and rested on my hips before taking my mouth against his. The kiss itself sent goosebumps across my body, feeling like my skin was alight with a flame anywhere he had touched; his fingertips brushing against my hips, stomach, and up my back where he deftly unhooked my bra, sliding each strap down my shoulder until my breasts were freely exposed. Dean tossed the bra haphazardly, letting it join the wad of clothes that had been thrown earlier, and cupped my breasts in both hands, running his thumbs across my nipples, raising them up at his delicate touch.

I inhaled sharply, relishing the touch as his hands slid back and pulled me towards him, applying his mouth to my right nipple. My entire body shook at the sudden contact, making me run my hands up to his hair where I raked my nails against his scalp; tugging at his hair as well. Clasping his lips around it, his tongue running over the pebbled skin slowly and deliberately before he kissed his way over to my left. The cool night air hardened my nipple further making Dean run the pad of his thumb across it in a teasing manner, "God, I've missed this…" I heard him murmur, nuzzling his face against my chest in adoration and wrapped his arms around my waist. Gently, I pulled his face back up to mine, tugging his bottom lip once again with my teeth. From underneath me, he shifted, feeling himself harden with anticipation.

His fingers worked away at my belt and jeans in no time as I did the same with his. I moved back onto the seat so that the both of us could strip ourselves from the rest of our clothes with shaking hands before Dean had pulled me back on top, watching through heavy-lids as I slowly sank down onto his hardened length. He let out a strained groan through clenched teeth as he tilted his head backwards, relishing the feeling of ultimate closeness. His muscles had grown taut, bulging in places, and rippled underneath his skin with each breath he took, finally opening his eyes.

Everything started out as slow, antagonizing ministrations in order to become acclimated to 'Little Dean' once again. His hands were firmly planted on my hips, helping me rock them back and forth. Being an empath and having sex made things a _hell_ of a lot harder. I wanted to buck and go wild like some wild bronco, but keeping in mind that I was basically feeling my own intimate sensations as well as feeling Dean's, made me relish it more. It was breathtaking actually. Dean's lips had found their way back to my neck as I worked with the slow rhythm, each of us made low, guttural sounds with each roll of my hips against his. The whole thing was so visceral, I swear I could feel electric dance across our skin, ultimately causing me to tip onto my breaking point.

Dean's grip on my hips tightened as his breathing became quicker, "Abs…not too fast." His chest heaved, "I'm gonna—" I bucked once, before his hands clamped onto my hips in an iron grip. Mouth gaping, Dean pulled me against him tightly, bowing his head against my chest as he found his release.

Cradling his head, I stroked his cheek tenderly, kissing his forehead, "I'm right there with you, baby…" I whispered out, seeing him look up with tears brimming his eyes. Between our lazy kisses and the rollercoaster ride spiraling downwards, Dean and I remained close with silent tears flowing freely down our faces, and wrapped tightly in each other's arms wishing that the things we had heard wasn't true. All that we wanted was contact.

* * *

_**Road-Night**_

Picking up Sam and hearing what had happened at Evan Hudson's house put a little relief on Dean and I's work. However, when we explained what had went down, Sam was in denial. He blurted out every possible thing that came to his mind, trying to sway how we felt about everything, "Demons lie all the time, right? Maybe she was lying."

"Come on. Is that really what you think?" Dean quipped, "Abigail was the maestro." Sam looked down.

"How could he do it?" I asked aloud, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

"He did it for you." Sam answered.

I shook my foot, "How am I supposed to live with that, Sam? You know, the thought of him... wherever he is right now. I mean, he spent his whole life chasin' that... yellow-eyed son of a bitch." Dean's arm tighten around me, feeling mutually angry at several things.

"He should have gone out fighting. That was supposed to be his legacy. You know?" Dean stated.

"Not… _bargainin'_ with the damn thing." I gritted out, "Not this."

"How many people do you think Dad saved? Total?"

"That's not the point, Sam." Dean said.

"Evan Hudson is safe because of what Dad taught us, because of what Abigail's dad and mom taught her." Sam pointed out, "That's their legacy, Dean. But we're still here, man. So we gotta keep going, for him. For Megan." I stared at the road ahead. Neither Dean nor I spoke, "Abigail?"

I hummed.

"When you were trapping that demon, you weren't... I mean, it was all a trick, right?" He asked, "You never considered actually making that deal, _right_?" This time, Dean was listening, fully expectant of an answer.

"Doesn't matter now, does it?" I said monotonously as silent, angry tears escaped and ran freely down my cheeks. I leaned forward in the seat, twisting the dial to the radio and allowed _Between the Devil and Me_ by Alan Jackson to blast through the speakers. I leaned back into the seat, taking Dean by the hand and entwined my fingers with his, drowning out the sound of the hellhounds rabid snarling and the irritating humming sound with one familiar voice standing out from all of them and saying:

_Have faith, Abigail._

* * *

**A/N: Here you go folks! _Crossroad Blues_ is out on in reasonable time frame (it's finals week for me)! I hope this chapter was enjoyable! I'd been looking forward to writing it for a _long_ time (since the early chapters of _Bad Company_). ****I'd love to thank _Ladysunshine6_ for helping me out with this, as well as offering suggestions and reminding me of our early conversations about this chapter. It really helped me out.**

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**I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise.**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me or you can get a hold of me via Tumblr! I love receiving fan-mail for all three!**

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**Song for this chapter: _Crossroads_ by I Prevail. (Seriously, check them out! Great band and they have an _amazing _cover of Taylor Swift's _Blank Space_.)**

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_**Ladysunshine6- **_**Thank ya darling! It's good to finally be starting back on my baby! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**_Guest- _****Thank you! I appreciate your kind words. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what parts you liked best! (:**

**_grapejuice101_\- Thank you! Yeah, he's like a grizzly bear when anyone messes with them or Sammy!**

_**Cobbler1998**_**\- Good deal! I appreciate your feedback! Hope you liked the chapter! (:**

_**angelicedg**_**\- Thank you! I think we all love our Megan moments! It's about time for them to go to the next step, huh?**

_**ebonywarrior85**_**\- Thank you! We all do!**

_**sarahmichellegellarfan1**_**\- Ugh! I know! I wasn't sure if it would've been too early for them to have done that or not. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! (:**


	13. Croatoan

_I can see inside you, the sickness is rising_

_Don't try to deny what you feel_

_(Will you give in to me?)_

_It seems that all that was good has died_

_And is decaying in me_

_(Will you give in to me?)_

_It seems you're having some trouble_

_In dealing with these changes_

_Living with these changes (oh no)_

_The world is a scary place_

_Now that you've woken up the demon in me_

* * *

_**November 7**__**th**__**, 2006**_

_**Motel Room**_

_**Kansas City, Kansas—Night**_

"Two rooms. Queen beds. Conjoinin' rooms if you got 'em." I said, rubbing my forehead tiredly after sliding my credit card across the counter.

The woman nodded, picking up the card, glancing to the name, "Amber Heard?"

"Yup," I answered.

"Isn't she an actress?" She asked.

I nodded, "Yeah. Pretty sure she plays in _All the Boys Love Mandy Lane_. Good movie, but I'm no relation."

Again, the woman nodded, running the card through before handing it back to me with a smile, "Have a nice stay."

"Thanks." I said, taking the receipt, keys, and card, before turning to leave the lobby and out to the parking lot where Sam and Dean were waiting, "Rooms 102 and 103." I handed Sam the key to his room, "They're conjoined, so if you need anythin' Sammy—just knock." He nodded as we gathered our bags, splitting off to our designated rooms.

"Don't let the bedbugs bite," Dean yawned out to his brother as he entered. Sam let out a huff, signaling him that he heard him, "We'll head out as soon as we're up." Closing the door behind us, Dean locked the door and set his duffel bag in a nearby chair. He ran a hand down his face roughly, "Abs…" I set my duffel down at the foot of the bed, unzipping it with a hum in response, "I know the conversation ended back in Mississippi…" I took out a white camisole shirt and a pair of sleeping shorts, "…you didn't consider making that deal, right?"

"I told Sam this, and now I'm gonna tell you," I replied, "It doesn't matter now, does it?"

Dean let out a scoff, "You were." He deadpanned.

"Didn't say I was or wasn't, Dean." I shrugged out of my jacket, failing to meet his gaze, "It doesn't matter what I was gonna do. Evan and his wife are free of the contract. Nobody lost anythin'."

Dean squared his jaw, ready for a fight, "And yet, you're not telling me a damn thing."

I pursed my lips, meeting his pissed off expression, "How much did you hear of mine and the crossroad demon's conversation?" I asked.

"Enough to know you had a choice to bring Dad and your family back," He replied in a haughty manner, "Now tell me, Abigail, were you considering making that deal?"

I clenched my jaw, averting my eyes to another part of the room, my fist wound tightly around my change of clothes, "I don't know."

"You don't…you don't _know_?" Dean implored, "How the hell don't you know when you were practically offering yourself to that demon on a silver platter?!" He ran a hand through his hair as the tone of his voice rose. I didn't move a muscle when he cleared a table, supplies and a phone falling onto the ground with a loud clatter, "Damn it, Abigail!" His face was scrunched into an angry expression, those green eyes of his flashing in the crappy light of this motel room, "How fucking selfish can you be?"

"Comin' from a man that called another selfish just hours ago for savin' his wife!" I snapped, "What the fuck was I supposed to do?!"

"How about, not making a goddamn deal with that demon skank!" He growled out.

I scoffed condescendingly at him, "It didn't happen, so why even bitch about it?" I bit out, glancing over to the conjoining door uneasily. The last thing we needed was a Sam Winchester intervention with the puppy dog look in full effect and a Dr. Phil interrogation, "Knowin' that Dad is in that bad of a place is enough for me to consider it!" Dean licked his lips before working his jaw oddly. Enraged was lightly covering how pissed off he was, "Dad _sacrificed_ himself for _me_."

"Oh, here we go again." He replied hotly, throwing his hands haphazardly into the air.

"Yeah, here we go again!" I spat out, "How am I supposed to live with that, Dean?" I asked, "Megan was dying." Dean turned his back to me, deeply upset and enraged, "She was s_upposed_ to die, Dean, and Dad opted me over _her_." My voice had gotten softer, distressed. I glanced up to the ceiling to stave off the water works before I forced myself to stare at my fiancé, "If he opted for _me_ to live, then how did she make it?" I asked.

"We got lucky." He said in a low, defiant voice.

I shook my head, slinging my clothes onto the bed, "That doesn't make any fuckin' sense! Explain to me how a dyin' twenty-seven week old preemie makes it out alive in the condition she came in." When Dean failed to speak I clenched my jaw, "They don't."

"She's fine now." He said, "You gotta at least give her that."

I nodded, "Yeah, but at what cost?"

Dean furrowed his brows again, "Are you-are you implying that one of us made a deal?" He rolled his eyes when I didn't speak, "We didn't even know a damn thing about making deals until the other day, Abs! What the hell makes you think we did something as stupid as that?!"

"I don't know!" I said loudly, "_Okay_? I. Don't. Know." I sank onto the bed, allowing my head to rest in my hands, staring numbly at the pine forest green carpet as stinging, hot tears fell, disappearing into the dark coloration of the carpet like past memories. Several pieces of hair cascaded down my shoulders in messy curls, offering me a short-lived curtain, "I keep…seein' this man every time Megan has somethin' important done to her. I don't know who he is…or _what_ he is."

"And you couldn't tell me or Sam?" I kept my gaze downwards, "What is he?"

"Like I said, I don't know." I replied curtly, throwing him a dangerous look, "He just shows up one minute, then he's gone. Acts like a doctor."

"A doctor?" Dean let out a snarky chuckle, "Abs…that's—"

"Don't patronize me, Dean!" I snapped, cutting him off, "The guy's got freakin' wings! How am I _not_ supposed to tell you that?"

Dean held a speculative look, "Wings? Are you saying that you saw an angel or something? Cause, you know, those things aren't real."

"Demons, vampires, and ghosts ain't?" I quipped, seeing him tilt his head out of reconsideration.

"Okay, so we'll just _assume_ you saw an 'angel'," Dean said hypothetically, "What did he look like?"

I glared at him, in which he shrugged his shoulders in an innocent fashion, "He's a cocky fucker, very sarcastic—like you." Dean raised a brow, "Likes sweets, lollipops in particular." I rubbed my face again trying to elude the temptation that was called sleep.

"I'm pretty sure this is the beginning of a dating-show," Dean muttered.

I ignored his comment, "He's short. Doctor's jackets cover up his hands, he has brown hair, and eyes that look like sunlight going through whiskey."

"Oh, well now he just sounds dreamy." He commented, earning yet another dirty look from me, "What?" I rolled my eyes at his faux innocence, grabbing my clothes. My anger was already beginning to skyrocket, and Dean's sarcastic lightheartedness wasn't helping.

"I'm not in the mood for this shit…" I muttered, getting up to go to the bathroom. Dean's hand flew out, catching me by the elbow.

"Hey, I'm just kidding." He said with his lips turned upwards in a smirk, "How short are we talking?"

I worked my jaw, looking down at his hand on my elbow, "Definitely shorter than Sam, shorter than you…I don't know, maybe…my height?"

"So, he's a hobbit." Dean summed up causing me to shove him away from me, "A hobbit angel. Makes sense. You reckon his name's Bilbo Baggins?"

"You're not too tall yourself, Frodo." I muttered, heading to the bathroom with Dean following close behind.

"Abs, c'mon. I'm just playing!" Dean called out behind me as I turned to look at him with a withering look.

"I'm not, Dean," I deadpanned, "Everythin' that you and Sam's said to me isn't true." Dean's whisper of a smile faded quickly, "Dad's dead because of me. Megan's alive because of somethin' else, and I find out that _my_ dad made a deal of his own." The jolt of shock sparked through me like I had stuck my finger in a light socket. Dean's eyes widened.

"Son of a bitch…" He breathed out, "What about?"

"The demon wouldn't tell me what it was over…" I muttered, tucking my hair behind my ear, "Again, he did it because of me." I gestured to myself, "My family's dead…because of me. Everythin' that's happened to us…is because of me." I drew my lips into a tight line, averting Dean's shocked gaze as another round of tears fell. I wiped them away roughly, taking in a deep breath to bypass it, "I'm bad luck, Dean…everyone that I love dies or leaves."

"Not me." Dean said firmly, "Or Sam."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes, "Yeah, well I left, like I said I wouldn't do."

"We were in a bad place," He countered, "I don't blame you for it—I was an ass."

"But you're blamin' yourself." I said, seeing him look down to the floor. I was in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning against the frame, "I want you to stop blamin' yourself for the things I do."

Dean's head lifted with an angry expression, "Then you need to stop blaming yourself for things that are out of your control." Dean snapped, suddenly angry again, "Dad made his choice, just like Steven did. They obviously did that for a reason."

"Like what?" I demanded, seeing his next sentence fall flat, like he'd caught himself, "Dean, so help me _God_, if you don't tell me—"

Dean crossed the distance between us, crashing his lips down on mine, _hard_. At first, I thought he'd head butted me, but I quickly realized that he'd kissed me once his hands had found their way to my hips, bringing me closer against him. I didn't _want_ to be kissed. I wanted to be angry like him. I wanted to throw things and toss tables like they were nothing. Every bit of fury Dean had felt prior towards what I had done, I wanted to feed off it—feed off the emotions of that fear and pain and misery that he had felt when I'd handcuffed him to the car to talk to the demon, to be able to mirror his frustration now. Of course, it was there, just below the surface, bubbling like a kettle of water set on boil, waiting for someone to knock it off and splatter everywhere.

Dean quickly pulled back, leaving me in a daze. My stupid brain refused to begin to register where this was leading to when Dean sank low, winding his arms just below my ass and lifted, pushing his body against mine roughly and pulled my face down to his, capturing my lips in another heated kiss where his tongue delved into my mouth. It was bruising, demanding and hard, and most of all, severely intoxicating. I tucked my arms against me, gripping the lapels to his jacket until my knuckles were a stark white.

With his body pressing against mine and the door frame jutting painfully into my back, I was more or less not moving anywhere, except for my heart that felt like it was hammering away at a railroad. Once again, he pulled back, leaving me in another daze as his left hand trailed up my side and up my back until his fingertips had delved into my hair, and entwining it in such a fashion that removal of his hand would be slightly difficult. I yelped out when he cranked my head to the side, only to plant blistering hot kisses against my throat.

Dean nipped, licked, and bit into my neck, eliciting a series of moans and gasps. Each rough action ignited an ember deep within me, forcing a ball of tension to accumulate in my lower abdomen. My already racing heart leapt up into my throat when his other free hand slid up my shirt, finding its way to the underside of my bra cup. Shoving it down, the feeling of his calloused hands against my exposed breast caused me to jerk against him and cry out; instinctively taking my hand and gripped his hair as tightly as I could, bringing his face to mine. Apart of me wanted him to stop. However, the funny thing was, when I glared at him as he did me—his eyes burning like two emeralds in front of an open flame—I didn't want him to.

I crashed my mouth on his. Our teeth clicked together this time around when his fingers deftly pinched and squeezed my nipple. Somehow, Dean's hand had managed to untangle itself from my hair before resting on my waist where they both pushed my shirt up, "No clothes." I heard him utter between kisses. I lifted my arms up over my head as both my shirt and his hands rose, promptly exposing my chest when an audible _twack_ of my shirt hitting the tiled floor of the bathroom alerted me.

"You're wearin' too many layers," I mumbled against his head when he slid the straps to my bra down, along with the cups until both of my breasts where out. He shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it haphazardly to the ground before taking off his button-up shirt and undershirt. Breathing heavily, we stared at our bare, upper bodies, deciding we were both even. For now. Dean wrapped his arms around me, taking all the weight my back had against the door frame off, which hurt coming off of it, and carried me to the bed where I—ungracefully—fell. He pushed the bags off the bed in the process letting them fall to the motel floor with a loud thump while I grabbed him by the belt loops, pulling him against me roughly.

His mouth found my neck again, pressing his hips against mine, letting out a grunt. Fisting his hair as he descended down, I closed my eyes once his mouth captured a nipple. I jolted, arching my back and letting in a sharp gasp. I met his devilish grin when his hands made short work of my jeans, working his way down with his mouth. Capturing the hem of the lace underwear I was wearing between his teeth elicited another gasp from me. I lifted my hips, losing my jeans in the process. It wasn't long after that, I'd lost them as well. Dean unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his jeans and underwear, sliding back on top of me. With one hand, he'd taken both of mine and lifted them above my head, pinning them to where I couldn't move.

With the other hand, he'd grasped himself and moved his hips forward, sliding in with a shaky breath. His hips didn't start out sweet and slow like usual. Instead, it was hard and demanding. Dean's chest expanded and contracted, every muscle from his neck to his ass rippled underneath his taut skin as he thrusted. The sounds of our grunting and moaning filled the room as we both rode several waves of ecstasy. Dean didn't quit at that.

Hiking my legs over his shoulders, he clenched my hips to the point where it was very possible that they were going to bruise as he withdrew, then rocked into me, hitting the bottom. I let out a loud sound…as in, I screamed. His lips tipped up into a satisfied smirk, an infuriating one at that, "You just don't know how much I love hearing that." He ground out breathlessly. Letting one of my hands go, he brought it down between my legs, "You know what to do."

Finding the sensitive bud between my legs, I jerked a few times from it already being sensitive. I watched through half-lidded eyes as Dean's body convulsed, one hand gripping my hip while the other was above my head, gripping the sheets.

It went on like that for another hour. By the time the both of us was spent, we were soaked with sweat. Dean had laid behind me lightly running his fingers along my side in a lazy fashion that both made me shiver and get goosebumps at the same time. He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. We laid there in silence as an overbearing feeling of guilt weighed upon my chest.

"…Dad told me to protect Sam, you, and Megan." He said quietly.

I turned onto my back, resting my head on my arm, looking at him, "Dad's always been like that." I said, "He's told you and me both that a million times."

His eyes fell to my necklace, taking it between his fingers, "No," he said, "This time, it was different; he said I had to _save_ Sam. Like something's wrong with him, you know?" I stared at Dean for a moment, wary about the outcome of this conversation, and the feeling of being lost and hopeless didn't make me feel any better. Dean's hand was shaking from it; trembling under the pressure of John's words.

He squeezed his eyes shut when I placed my hand on his cheek, "Dean…" I spoke slowly, "What'd he say?"

Dean swallowed hard, "Dad just said to save Sam…nothing else mattered, but if I couldn't, for me to not let Sam get near you two." I scrunched my face at him, confused. Dean's shoulders rose and fell with each breath he took, chest heaving. He looked ashamed by something, heartbroken. "He said…" His tongue darted out quickly, as his eyes met mine, glistening with tears, "He said if things went south, to kill him. It was pretty much the fate of the world was in my hands mumbo-jumbo."

I propped myself up on my elbows, "That-that's crazy. Sammy wouldn't do anythin' to hurt me or Megan." Dean drew his lips in a thin line, "Hell, he wouldn't hurt a fly!" I shook my head in disbelief, lying back down and put my hands on my head, "Dad's delusional…" I muttered, then looked up to Dean, "Did he say anything else? I mean…Do you—?" I couldn't even begin to word out my next sentence, "What the hell does that even mean?"

Dean shook his head slowly, "I don't know."

I ran my hand down my face, "This is some deep shit. Dad must know more about this than we ever begun to understand."

"I don't know, Abs. Christ!" He exclaimed, sitting up, "I don't know anything else." His turned his head to look at me, "Dad never got into details!"

I stared at him, "How long have you known?" His eyes flew to another area of the room, "How long have you known, Dean?" I asked a second time.

"The day you came out of the coma." He muttered.

Silence.

"Have you told Sam?"

Dean scoffed, "Yeah, I'm gonna walk up to our not-so-little brother and tell 'im I gotta save him, then if not, I gotta gank him!" I blew out an agitated breath, "Abs, I can't do that to him." Dean shook his head.

"Nothin's gonna happen to 'im, Dean." I said, "We'll lie low for a bit. Megan's due to get out of the hospital soon…gives us somethin' to do, you know?" Dean nodded, "This obviously has somethin' to do with the demon…the kids he was tellin' us about, like Weber, Max, Andy?" I saw his face darken at the mention of Weber and Max. "Those two were bad cookies, but that doesn't explain me…or Megan. I don't know what influence I have in this, or why the demon doesn't want me or Megan apart of his plan."

"None of this is makin' any friggin' sense," Dean muttered, scrubbing his face with his hand, then ran it through his hair, "I mean, you try having this screaming in your head all damn day and night." I arched my brow at him, seeing his face twist into a snarky, knowing look, "I swear if you say anything—." I lifted my hands, not saying a word, lying back down. He followed suit, "I don't know what to do, Abs…" Dean spoke lightly. I frowned at the strain in his voice.

"We'll figure somethin' out…" I told him, glancing up to the ceiling as tears began to well up in my eyes. A single tear escaped causing me to move my hand up to my face and wipe it away as did Dean, "Nothin' bad's gonna happen to Sammy."

I heard him take a sharp breath, "I hope not, Abigail…God, I hope not." Neither of us got much sleep that night. We were too strung out about the events from that night, and the news that was just said. Everything weighed heavy on our minds—talk about an elephant in the room.

Actually, it was a whole damn herd of elephants.

* * *

_**NICU—Day**_

_**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**_

_**November 9**__**th**__**, 2006**_

We got back to Sioux Falls around noon. Sam was in good spirits, despite having to wear headphones for the majority of the night due to our extracurricular activity. He took notice on Dean and I's sluggish behavior while walking up to the NICU with coffees in tow. We were nursing them like they were a gift from the heavens.

"You guys get any sleep?" Sam asked.

I smiled tiredly at him, "Yeah, plenty."

"Feel like I could run a marathon," Dean yawned out, rubbing his right eye with the back of his hand. Sam's brows knitted together in a knowing look. Just like me, Dean was lying. It was obvious too. The cups of coffees were the ones of many that morning. With Sam being around us, the truth of what John had told Dean definitely weighed upon my heart as heavily as the thought of making that deal. It was everything in me to not breathe a word of it. Dragging our feet till we were outside of Megan's room, we paused, hearing a familiar gruff voice speaking.

The door was barely open, wide enough to peek through as we peered through the gap to see Bobby sitting in a chair with Megan in an arm and a book open. I pulled my lips between my teeth to prevent a large grin from surfacing, only to fail. Despite the rough and tough exterior, Bobby had a heart of gold. The three of us stood, watching in silence as Bobby read her _Where the Wild Things Are_.

"But the wild things cried, _Oh, please don't go—we'll eat you up—we love you so!_" From beside me, Dean and Sam grinned like two school kids, rarely ever seeing Bobby in this state of affection. I felt Dean's hand find its way to take a hold of mine, squeezing it as we watched in silence. We must've stood there another minute or so until Bobby finished reading the book before Sam finally knocked causing Bobby to mutter something under his breath, most likely a curse that his time with Megan was interrupted.

"It's open." One by one we filed in seeing Bobby straightening up in his chair, "It's about time you three showed up."

Dean smirked, "Figured we'd see the sights and do a job."

"Oh?" Bobby urged him to carry on.

Dean glanced to Sam and me, "Oh, you know…" He laughed nervously, thinking of a way to sidestep the entire conversation, "Just a quick salt and burn. Nothing major." Sam shifted at his words, _knowing_ that was a straight up lie. Dean nodded to the book in Bobby's lap, "What have you got there, _grandpa_?"

Bobby snorted, tucking it out of sight, "Just a book."

Dean arched a brow, smirking in a tired—yet smug—manner. In the moment of silence, Sam drew a breath, as if he was going to speak up. I nudged him in the ribs, shaking my head minutely as a sign to not speak. Bobby would fly off the handle had we told him about the crossroads fiasco, so Sam gave me a withering look and remained silent.

_Be mad, Sam_. I thought when Bobby looked at Dean hard, "You look like crap, boy."

Dean looked back at Bobby, bewildered at his statement, "What?"

"You and Abigail both." His eyes flickered to our stunned expressions with a grunt, "Didn't you two get any sleep?" Dean and I glanced at each other.

"Uh—"

"No." Sam said quickly, earning a withering look from his brother.

Bobby sighed, "Idjits." He muttered out, then jerked his chin to the door, "C'mon, you two come with me."

"Bobby, we don't—" Dean began until Bobby gave him a scowl causing him to motion to his and mine's daughter like she was going to be some kind of excuse to evade sleep, "What about Megan?"

"Sam's got it covered, don't ya?" Bobby stated, earning a nod from Sam in return.

"Yeah, of course." He said, as Dean shook his head at what was going on._ Traitor._ I thought with narrowed eyes. Sam gave me his infamous 'Sam Winchester is an angel and does no wrong' shrug. That caused me to pucker.

"This is mutiny." Dean accused more or less glowering from his brother to Bobby and back.

Sam snorted, "This isn't mutiny. You and Abigail haven't been to sleep in almost two days. Just, get some sleep. I'll be fine with Megan."

Dean groaned, scrubbing his face once more, "_Fine_. Two hours."

"Three."

"Two and a half."

"Three." I rolled my eyes at their bickering. It volleyed between two and a half and three before Sam switched it up to four. I could sense Dean getting aggravated from being so tired and was nearing the end of his fuse. Getting ahead of himself, Dean blurted out, "_Five_." I gaped. When he finally registered what he'd said, Sam already had Megan and Bobby clapped his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Five it is then." He finalized with a beardy grin, motioning for me to follow. I ran a hand down my face, muttering silent curses to Sam and Dean both.

"Fuckin' _idjits_." I muttered as I followed Bobby and Dean out of the hospital. The entire ride back was nothing but bickering and awkward silences as we rode in the back of Bobby's Chevy Nova like a pair of two scolded teenagers.

Up in the room, Dean shrugged out of his button-up shirt and finally pulled off undershirt, tossing them both onto a nearby chair, agitated. He paced around, shirtless, muttering incoherent words here and there to himself, then finally turned, lifting his arms up only for them to fall and slap the sides of his legs, "I don't even know why they're treating us like we're friggen four!"

I shrugged before reaching back to unclasp my bra, snaking my arms through the loops of it, and laid it over his shirts, "We didn't get much sleep. Can't really complain about it." I undid my belt, stepping out of my jeans so that all I was left in was my white undershirt and a pair of turquoise boyshort-styled panties. Dean's lips pursed at my comment, however his eyes were glued to watching what I was doing.

"You mean, _you_ didn't get any sleep." He said, earning a scoff and a sarcastic look from over my shoulder.

"You should talk. You were up 'bout as much as me." I stated, crossing my arms. Dean shrugged, pulling a face as he passed me and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face for the hundredth time.

He yawned, "We coulda crashed in the car if it meant missing out on the crap Sam and Bobby are doin' to us." I smiled at him, taking note of his scruffy, bed-raggled appearance and took a seat beside him, clasping my hand over his. Dean shifted his head to the left to look at me, turning his hand palm up so that I could lace my fingers in his. His grip tightened with a hidden desperation behind it, enabling a series of emotions to swirl in those sleep deprived eyes of his, "What would I do without you?" He asked.

I smiled affectionately, touching my left hand to the side of his face as we kissed briefly, "Crash and burn." I replied seeing his lips spread into a grin, kissing mine once again with more gusto, pulling me on top of him in the bed.

* * *

We were covered in a thin gleam of perspiration, wrapped in each other's arms with the covers tangled amongst our limbs while Dean stared into my eyes with wonder, letting go of my hip and lightly touched my face as if I were porcelain. He blinked, planting a gentle, heartfelt kiss onto my swollen lips, saying nothing. It was one of his quirks and it generally spoke in volumes of generosity. The sun was going down, illuminating the room in a warm splash of a golden yellow glow. Seeing him in this vulnerable state, treating me as if I were going to break or leave, especially under the circumstances of the previous days, I felt grateful to be in this bed with him. My heart swelled with so much admiration, I couldn't help but smile, running delicate fingers down his chest, fumbling with his pendant. A rumbling chuckle elicited from him as he pulled me closer, kissing my temple.

"You and that damn amulet," He said, amused.

I peeked a glance at him, smiling, "Yeah, me and that damn amulet." I said, running the warm brass head in between my fingertips. Dean clasped his hand around my hand bringing it to his lips, brushing a tender kiss across my knuckles. In these subtle moments such as this, it was _so_ easy to forget the chaos and horrors that dwelled just outside of Sioux Falls. Just to be able to soak up the peacefulness, drink in each other's light—it was close enough to say that this was our little slice of heaven on earth. I then snuggled against Dean closer, if I could get any closer without being directly on top of him, feeling his arms wrap around my waist. We laid in silence once again, listening to the other's heartbeats and slow breathing like it was some kind of our own tranquil meditation until sleep had completely taken over.

* * *

_**NICU—Evening**_

_**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**_

_**November 27**__**th**__**, 2006**_

_**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**_

The course of the past couple of weeks were a bout of comfort for the three of us. We piddled around Bobby's auto yard, spent most of our time in the NICU with Megan, and strayed from the sights of any law enforcement for Dean's sake. Within the confines of the NICU, Sam, Dean, and I rarely spoke of anything pertaining to our line of work, however, did bouts of research—and wound up at several dead ends.

Sam and I were sitting while Dean paced the room with Megan. She was nearly wire and IV-free, with only three remaining, which enabled us to walk around more freely with her. She'd been incredibly fussy, wailing her heart out while ours had broken and all I sensed from her was fear. I didn't know why, and that was putting me between a rock and a hard place. Watching Dean pace, holding our daughter close to him as she let out another cry, made him even more uncomfortable. He'd sung her every song off the top of his head, including _Hey Jude_, none of them had any effect on her. It was definitely upsetting, especially to Dean.

"Abs, what could _possibly _be scaring her?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at me, "There's nothing here that would do anything. No one comes in here besides Bobby and Ashley, and I mean, _no one_."

Sam was reclined back in his chair, confused about this as well, "You don't think she has some kind of supernatural perception like you, Abigail, do you?"

Dean stopped cold in his tracks, "No." He said, firmly, "No way."

"Dean, you gotta keep that in mind." Sam said, "I mean, do you think that kind of stuff is hereditary?"

I shrugged, throwing Dean an icy glare at his reaction to Sam's query, "I have no idea. As far as I know, no one else in my family had this ability—I'm the only one." Dean's entire posture was rigid, like he was getting ready to punch the next person to walk in the room without warning, "If she does have this ability, then she can obviously see the reapers that float around here. Some of them are actually pretty freaky." Dean's face skewed into that of a Dean Winchester bitchface. I gave him a shrug, "What? I'm bein' honest. We gotta keep an open-mind about her…what kind of…_possibilities_ there is for our daughter."

"Being labeled a freak gonna one of them?" Dean snapped, "Jesus, don't you guys realize that _if_, and if is a pretty big word right now, _if_ she has some kind of supernatural perception, she's got a bullseye painted on her forehead?"

I frowned, "No one else knew about my ability but you guys and those who already knew about it." I leaned forward in my chair resting my elbows on my knees, "I can't tell you the times I was told to keep it hidden from the others—my brother and sisters never knew about it." Dean furrowed his brows, turning his head to look at Sam who had an equally perplexed expression on his face.

"So that's why Dad always told us not to say anything about it when we would come over," Sam said, "Huh." I nodded, looking back to Dean as he started to pace again.

"The twins and Alyssa never knew about it?"

I shook my head, "Nope. Never knew. If I had to keep it from the rest of the 'normal' world, then I kept it from them in order to preserve that innocence in them. All they knew about the supernatural were stories, and it was generally fabricated to meet their needs."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You mean, they didn't get the same treatment as we did?" Dean asked, "I thought your brother and sisters knew about this kind of stuff."

I rolled my eyes, "Mom and Dad wanted them to follow the family business of demonology. _I_ wanted them to have a normal life—demon-free. I was around my parents more than them, I had seen things my brother and sisters couldn't even _begin_ to imagine. I didn't want them to have that kind of life. So, when I stayed behind with them, instead of obstacle courses, I took them to playgrounds and instead of target practice, we had water gun fights."

Sam frowned, "So…this entire time…those bruises…they weren't from training, were they?"

I clenched my jaw, allowing my eyes to fall to the tiled floor beneath my feet. My silence had been more than enough to answer his question, "Guess alcohol and the mentality of a drill instructor didn't make a healthy combo." I laughed half-heartedly, "'s what I get for disobeyin' orders, but you know what?" I looked to the both of them, "I'd do it again if it meant their safety."

Dean was quiet, in shock, I presumed as Megan wailed like a banshee, "I never knew."

"No one was supposed to know." I replied, "Dad or Mom never breathed a word of it." I rubbed my forehead, feeling a twinge of pain, "As soon as it happened, it was over and we went on with our lives. It's in the past. I'm not worried about it anymore—Jesus, Megan's got a pair of lungs on her."

Dean stood in place basically doing the oompa-loompa dance, trying to figure out different ways to soothe our screaming kid, "No kidding, she'll be an opera singer or the new front man for Judas Priest. I have _no _idea what to do. The Beatles ain't havin' any effect, Robert Plant isn't workin'—."

"What about Phil Collins?" I asked, "She's been on a Tarzan kick."

Dean arched a brow, "Tarzan? Kids this small don't watch television…do they?"

"I'm here all the time, I think I know what she tolerates." I deadpanned.

"Yeah. Fine. Whatever." He muttered, rolling his eyes at me, "So you want Phil Collins?" He asked, looking down at Megan who only whimpered. It really wasn't like she was going to say anything. Dean thought for a moment, trying to pull lyrics from his memory, then cleared his throat, starting out _You'll Be in My Heart_. Upon the second verse, her wails had ceased. Smug at his victory, Dean smirked, turning his back to Sam and me as he continued to sing to her.

The nagging feeling of a migraine caused me to wince, along with Sam. He let out soft curse as he ran a hand along his forehead which formed a knot in my stomach. I stared at him almost dreading what was about to happen, and like a jolt of lighting, I grabbed his arm.

_Everything seemed to have been in slow motion, like in action movies where something big was about to happen. All I was able to see was Dean walk down a dim hallway, a grim expression on his features as he turned towards a door and pulled out his pistol. In a solemn gesture, he slide out the clip, tapping it on the gun to set the bullets in place, then placed the clip back into the weapon. _

_I frowned, searching for Sam or any signs of myself in the picture, "Dean, what's goin' on?" I asked, seeing no form of response from him. Upon opening the door, a young blond man was tied to a chair, trembling with terror, "Dean, what the hell's goin' on?" I asked again, eyes flickering back and forth from the blond to Dean. Again, I got no answer from him._

_The room itself was small, a Crater Lake poster hanging on a nearby wall. There were three other people in the room with him, a younger woman, a middle-aged woman—a doctor, judging by the white coat—and a tough-looking black man. As Dean raised the gun towards the blond, everything went to a normal pace, the man babbled like a broken record._

"_No, no, no, no, no, you're not gonna... no, I swear! It's not in me!" He pleaded._

"_Oh God. We're all gonna die." The younger woman ushered out._

_The tough-looking man was at the blond man's side, trying to reason with Dean, "Maybe he's tellin' the truth._

_With a dark look gracing his eyes, Dean advanced, pulling the hammer back on his pistol, "He's not him, not anymore."_

"_Dean, don't!" I said firmly._

"_No, stop it! Stop it! Ask her, ask the doctor! It's not in me!" The blond cried out._

_The middle-aged woman, the doctor, shook her head with uncertainty, "I just . . . I can't tell." _

"_No, please, don't. Don't. I swear, I_—_," The blond started to sob._

_Dean, however, remained un-phased, "I got no choice."_

_The blond spoke brokenly through sobs, "I swear, it's not in me, it's not in me! Don't, don't. Please!"_

_I watched in horror as Dean fired twice._

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Blacktop—Night**_

"_Continue on O-R Two-Two-Four West_." The GPS system spoke. I was still reeling from what Sam and Abigail had witnessed in a promotion just a few hours prior.

"There are only two towns in the US named Rivergrove." Sam explained, having plugged the name of the town into the GPS without so much as a thought.

"You're sure it's the one in Oregon?" I asked, seeing him give me a knowing glare.

"You heard Abigail, there was a Crater Lake poster on the wall…"

"Spent some time there…Nice place," I commented with an appreciative nod, "What else?"

"I saw a dark room, some people, and a guy tied to a chair." Sam recounted before falling silent once again.

"And I ventilated him?" I prompted.

He nodded, "Yeah. You thought there was something inside him."

"What, a demon? Was he possessed?" Sam hesitated, "Where was Abigail in all of this? You know she would've stopped me."

"I don't know. Probably where she's at right now," He answered, bringing up the fact that Abigail had chosen to stay behind. I knew she wanted to go, but with the possibility of Megan being discharged within the matter of _days_, it was better off.

"Well, all your weirdo visions are always tied to the Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow, just like Abs' nightmares—so was there any black smoke? Did we try to exorcise it?" I asked, going through the motions like I would've looked at any case.

"No." Sam replied, "Nothing, you just plugged him, that's it."

I pursed my lips at his answer, glancing from him to the road, "Well, I'm sure I had a good reason."

"I sure hope so." I stared at Sam a moment long upon hearing his dejected tone.

"What does that mean?" I asked sounding somewhat accusing and suspicious of his comment, "I mean, I'm not gonna waste an innocent man." Sam raised his brows. That look didn't sit right with me, "I wouldn't!" I said forcefully.

"I never said you would!" Sam finally spoke up in a defensive tone.

"Fine!" I snapped.

"Fine!" Sam snapped back, still sounding defensive. I turned my eyes back onto the road. _Jesus, things were tense without Abigail around_, "Look," Sam started to say, "We don't know what it is. But whatever it is, that guy in the chair's a part of it. So let's find him, and see what's what."

"Fine." I said reluctantly.

"Fine." Sam seconded before sulking. I rolled my eyes once again, shaking my head.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**NICU—Night**_

_**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**_

I sat in silence. Megan was sleeping soundly in her incubator, wearing her batman onesie that Dean had gotten her when the three of us still thought _she_ was a _he_. Holding my gaze on Megan's sleeping form, I couldn't help but smile to myself. She was every sense of the word perfect, at least, in my eyes she was perfect. Everything about her said strength—it was clearly evident with her battle of staying alive and healthy. Her time here in the NICU was coming to an end, a matter of _days_, then I would finally get to see her all hours, all day every day. I wouldn't have to worry about her when I left on hunts, I wouldn't have to call _nearly_ as much. Thinking of mine and Dean's daughter coming home made me sick with excitement.

Then again, I could be sick with dread. No sooner as I thought back to Sam's premonition, I frowned, "Son of a bitch…" I ran a hand across my face. Upon shutting my eyes, I saw the terrified look on the boy once again before Dean's finger pulled the trigger. My body moved backwards in the chair, allowing me to look up to the paper white ceiling, "Dean isn't gonna kill an innocent person for nothin'…there's gotta be a reason." I sat there for at least an hour, restless. I couldn't even begin to think about dozing off. Honestly, the more I sat and thought about it, the more worried and anxious I became about the entire situation. It was off, didn't feel right at all. Like it was a set-up for them in some way.

I ran my hand through my tangled tresses, blowing out an irritated breath, "I'm goin' crazy." Standing up, I started to pace, "Nothin's gonna happen." That was a lie. I could see in my mind, my conscience tapping her foot like a mother getting ready to scold. Every time a premonition would happen, bad things usually unfurled like a tornado. Usually around me or Sam, not Dean. I nearly jumped out of my skin when my cellphone buzzed to life, _Ring of Fire_ playing loudly. Rushing over to it, I picked it up, placing it to my ear, "Hey, you."

"_Hey, you._" Dean's voice rumbled out over the engine of the Impala, "_How's the princess doin'_?"

"Sleepin'," I replied, "Where are ya'll at?"

"_Some two lane backdrop in Montana,_" Came his reply, "_Sam's asleep, figured I'd call and check up on my girls_." He let out a yawn, "_This whole trip's a drag without you here._"

I slowly sat down, smiling to myself, "Yeah, I know. Sam bein' good?"

Dean let out a snort, "_Good? What is he, five?_"

"You know what I mean," I said.

"_Define 'good'._" He said, "_If being bitchy and assuming I'm gonna blow some kid's head off is good, then he's been an angel._"

I frowned, bringing my thumb to my mouth, chewing on the skin around the nail, "Shit."

"_Yeah_._ Giving me all kinds of good vibes_." He muttered, sarcasm coating his words thick like molasses, "_You know I wouldn't gank some kid."_

"Not unless there was a reason behind it," I said.

"_You and Sam both saw the kid, right?_" Dean asked.

I nodded, "Right. I couldn't really tell if anythin' was wrong with him or not."

He let out a breath, "_Great…_"

"That doesn't mean that he was fine. The kid was tied up—obviously there was a reason behind it. Somethin' bad to the point where icin' him was the only option." I said quickly, knowing that he was obviously upset about this entire trip and what the premonition had foretold.

Dean was quiet for a moment, then hummed, "_Makes sense_._ But what if-?"_

"Nothin' bad is gonna happen." I interrupted him, "Remember Max?"

"_Max? The Max that tried to put a bullet in your head while you were pregnant? Yeah, I know 'im._" Dean more or less snapped out, "_Scuzzy little prick_." He muttered under his breath.

"My nightmare was wrong—Sam's premonition of that? Wrong." I stated.

"_Yeah, but,-_"

"What about Weber?" I asked.

"_Yeah, _I _put a round of lead in your shoulder._" He muttered bitterly.

"I was supposed to die." I reminded him, "But did I? No." This time, Dean didn't speak. I heard the engine in the background and Sam's occasional snores, "These premonitions, they're subject to change. Whatever is supposed to happen, I-I think there's a good chance somethin' different will play out."

Dean sighed, "_I hope so, Abs_. _I don't think I can handle takin' out a kid for nothing._"

"You won't," I reassured, smiling when I saw Megan stir in her dolly. Bringing it towards me, I noticed one blue eye peeked open, then shut quickly before making a series of faces, then yawned. I laughed softly, "I know a certain little girl misses her daddy."

"_Is she up?_" He asked, his voice hinted with a twinge of eagerness. I hummed putting the phone on speaker and set it next to Megan's head.

"Talk." I said, seeing how she would react to hearing Dean's voice.

"_Why? She can't talk." _He replied. I grinned when one of Megan's eyes peeked open again.

"You should see her just a peepin'. Thinks she's doin' somethin' big." I told him, taking a hold of Megan's tiny hand between my fingers gently, "Do you hear daddy talkin' to ya?" This time, both eyes opened as Megan scrunched her face into a serious expression.

"_What's she doin'?_" Dean asked.

"Blue Steelin'." I answered, hearing Dean chuckle over the speaker, "She's you made over."

"_Don't say that or we'll regret it._" Dean joked.

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, we'll have our hands full that's for sure." The phone crackled as he let out a breath, causing Megan to jump slightly at the sudden sound, "You know what they say about havin' a little girl, don't ya?"

Dean was quiet, "_No. What?_"

"It's payback for everythin' you've ever done as a kid." I said.

Silence.

"_Oh, God_." Dean sounded horrified, "_That's it, I'm turning this car around._" I laughed, "_No, I'm serious. I was a dick._"

"You still are." I mused.

"_Oh, ha, ha_." He said dryly, "_I've got enough on my plate and you just add to it. Now I gotta do everything in my power to keep the entire male population at bay._"

"Not for another fifteen years, papa-bear." I told him, grinning at his horror. I didn't know if he was putting it on or if he was truly horrified, but my money was on both.

"No_, no, no_._ If she's payback for everything _I've _done, it's gonna be earlier than that._" He said, _"At twelve, we're gonna have to barricade the doors and windows wherever we're at._" I snorted with laughter, remembering how Dean was at that age. He was definitely speaking the truth, but I think he was getting ahead of himself on that one, "_Pack up and move to a deserted island where it's just you, me, Megan, Sammy, and Baby_."

"And how would you suggest that one, Columbus?" I asked, watching Megan look around. I did the same, not seeing anything paranormal.

"_By boat_." He stated.

"Good plan, good plan. So, uh, what about food?"

"_We got fishing poles in the back of the car_." Came his answer and I grinned, "_We'll live off the lay of the land_. _Never have to worry about hunting, boys—things like that._"

"Sounds a lot like you want to go to Hawaii." I said.

"_Minus the hunting and boys_." Dean yawned out, "_Take some time off hunting and just…relax._"

I picked up Megan, humming in agreement, "I like the sound of that. We've took off quite a bit of time with Megan too." Megan cuddled against me, rubbing her face against my chest as I stroked her back with my fingertips.

"_Do I need another reason?_"

I shook my head, "No. She's a good enough reason."

"_I agree._" He said, "_Cherry-pie, I'm gonna get off here, stretch my legs, and fill Baby up. I'll call you in a while."_

I frowned, "Okay."

We were quiet for a moment.

"_I love you_." Dean said lightly, "_Both of you_."

"We love you." I said, "Be careful, and tell Sam I said be careful."

"_Always, and will do. We'll be home in a couple of days. Hopefully_."

"Alright…I'll be here."

"_Don't freak out if we don't call_._ Signal might be sketchy_." Dean said with a smugness in his voice. I rolled my eyes.

"I won't."

"_Good_._ Not saying you came at a bad time, cause you saved our asses—_"

"I'll be good, and not come to your rescue. I'll be right here in Sioux Falls with our child." I said, hearing him literally grin, "Happy?"

"_You know it." He replied, "But seriously, I gotta get off here. Call you in a few. Give my girl a kiss for me._"

"Okay." I waited as he hung up the phone before I did, snapping it shut. Setting the phone down, I let out a sigh, holding Megan against me as I placed a kiss on her forehead, "Daddy loves you." I murmured, then kissed her forehead again, "Uncle Sammy loves you." Then I planted another, "And mommy loves you." I closed my eyes for a second, "It's just gonna be you and me for a couple of days 'til they get back." _Hopefully in one piece._

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Rivergrove Street—Day**_

_**Rivergrove, Oregon**_

_**November 29**__**th**__**, 2006**_

I'd driven through the night before Sam had picked up and drove most of the day. Upon coming into Rivergrove, I had taken the wheel, glancing at a large billboard advertising Crater Lake. Seeing the picture of the lake, I couldn't help but smile to myself, remembering the time I spent there with Abigail. I glanced over to Sam, who had been silent and staring out of the window for the past three hours.

"After Megan's out of the hospital, the four of us should come back and stay out at Crater Lake for a week." I suggested, earning a surprised look from my brother. He stared, silent, "What?"

"Why Crater Lake?" He asked.

I shrugged, "It's a good place to fish, for one. Scenic. I just thought you'd like to go there, since you like that girly sight-seeing stuff."

Sam rolled his eyes, turning his lips up into a smirk, "What am I, ten?"

"Dude, I was just making a suggestion." I said defensively, "Abs and I found this cave the last time we were there—you gotta check it out."

"What were you two doing down in Crater Lake? That's a tourist trap."

I tilted my head, "Ah, it's a long story. I'm sure you wouldn't want to hear it. Besides, we're here." I motioned my hand to the small town we were heading to before pulling up in front of a wooden shop; an older man sitting in a rocking chair was cleaning a rifle. Judging the way Sam shifted uncomfortably, he recognized him, so we got out of the car and approached him.

"Morning." I greeted him, catching the man pause what he was doing, giving Sam and I a good look.

"Good morning." He replied, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah." I said, pulling out a badge, "Uh, Billy Gibbons, Frank Beard." I motioned to Sam, "U.S. Marshals."

"What's this about?" The man asked, oblivious to the fact that we were using members of ZZ Top.

"We're looking for someone." I told him.

"A young man, early twenties." Sam began to describe, "He'd have a, a thin scar right below his hairline."

The man's eyes squinted out of caution, "What'd he do?" He asked, looking from Sam to me.

"Well, nothing." Sam replied, "We're actually looking for someone else, but we think this young man could help us."

I nodded, "Yeah, he's not in any kind of trouble or anything; well, not yet." I glanced down to the man's left arm, seeing a distinctive tattoo, "I think maybe you know who he is . . . Master Sergeant." I smiled, "My dad was in the Corps, he was a Corporal. So was my father-in-law." Sam's eyes flickered over to me warily.

"What company?" He asked, interested.

"Echo-2-1." I answered without missing a beat.

"So can you help us?" Sam asked.

The man hesitated, then nodded, "Duane Tanner's got a scar like that. But I know him. Good kid, keeps his nose clean."

"Oh, I'm sure he does." I said, "Um. You know where he lives?"

"With his family, up Aspen Way." He replied, motioning his head up the road.

"Thank you." I said, concluding the conversation. Crossing the street, I couldn't help but feel a chill. This place was odd. I couldn't really put my finger on why it felt that way, but in Abigail's case, she would've been bugging out; looking over her shoulder, fidgeting, never really able to sit still. I guess in a way, I was beginning to level with her.

"Hey." Sam called out.

I turned, seeing him looking at a telephone pole with something carved in it. We stopped at it, seeing the word, _CROATOAN_.

"Croatoan?" I asked.

Sam held a significant look, "Yeah." I stared at him blankly, "Roanoke? Lost colony? Ring a bell?" Truth be told, I was lost. "Dean, did you pay any attention in history class?" He asked, frustrated.

I scoffed, "Yeah! Shots heard 'round the world, How bills becomes a laws . . ." I started to list of general things.

Sam stared at me, bitchface in place, "That's not school, that's _Schoolhouse Rock_."

I rolled my eyes, "Whatever."

"Roanoke was one of the first English colonies in America, late 1500s?" He attempted, and I nodded.

"Oh yeah, yeah, I do remember that." I recalled, "The only thing they left behind was a single word carved in a tree. Croatoan."

"Yeah. And I mean, there were theories — Indian raid, disease, but nobody knows what really happened. They were all just gone. I mean, wiped out overnight." Sam said, glancing to the people walking around.

I glanced to them as well before looking back at my brother uneasily, "You don't think that's what's going on here, I mean . . ."

"Whatever I saw in my head, it sure wasn't good." He said with a shake of his head, "Abigail would be fritzing."

I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck, "Yeah, no kidding."

"But what do you think could do that?" He asked.

I shrugged, "Well, I mean, like I said, all of your and Abigail's weirdo visions are always tied to the Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow, so . . ."

"We should get help." Sam said, "Abigail, Bobby, uh, Ellen maybe?"

I nodded, "Yeah, that's a good idea. Abigail and Bobby would be here in no time." I pulled out my cellphone, frowning. My heart sunk as a knot formed, "Shit." I looked around, lifting up the phone, "I don't have a signal."

Sam did the same thing, then shook his head, "I don't either." I looked around, seeing a payphone. We walked over to it, picking up the phone and heard the rapid, "out of service" beeping. I clicked the receiver several times. _This wasn't good_.

"Line's dead." I hung the phone back up, "I'll tell you one thing. If I was gonna massacre a town, that'd be my first step."

* * *

_**Tanner House—Day**_

The drive out to Duane's house was silent, uncomfortable. It allowed me to delve into thoughts that I didn't need to go to right now. _Was Sam supposed to go Darkside? What was supposed to happen if he did? Was he going to become some kind of monster—become what we hunted day in and day out? Was he going to hurt Abigail and Megan in some way? What did Abigail and Megan have to do with this entire situation?_ I got angry for a moment, mad at myself that I even allowed these kind of thoughts to come in. I needed to get my head in the game, figure out what in the hell was going on with this place. Get back to Abigail and Megan safely.

_Oh, she was going to freak over this one_. I thought as we parked in front of household. It was a cabin-style home, something Abigail would've been bragging about. It had a spacious yard, big enough for a small family to sit out and watch a kid running around in—I guess what I was beating around the bush for is that, if I was domestically inclined to live somewhere and 'settle down', it would've been on my list to stay at. As a plus, it had a sign that I admired, reading, "Born to Fish; Forced to Work". I nodded towards it, seeing Sam arch his brow. Guess he didn't like to fish as much as what Abigail and myself did.

Sam knocked on the door, and a teenaged boy with dark, spiked hair opened it, "Yeah?"

I flashed my badge at him, "We're looking for Duane Tanner; he lives here, right?"

The boy nodded, "Yeah, he's my brother."

"Can we talk to him?" I asked.

"Oh, he's not here right now." He replied, cocking his eyebrow up.

"Do you know where he is?" I asked him.

"Yeah, he went on a fishing trip up by Roslyn Lake." The boy answered, seeming _way_ too friendly for my liking.

"Your parent's home?" Sam then asked.

He smiled at us, "Yeah, they're inside."

A middle aged man came to the door, "Jake? Who is it?"

"Hi, U.S. Marshals, sir, we're looking for your son Duane." I said.

"Wh-why? He's not in trouble, is he?" He asked, shocked.

"No, no, no, no. We just need to ask him a couple of routine questions, that's all." I reassured.

"When's he due back from his trip?" Sam asked.

Mr. Tanner shook his head, "I'm not sure."

Sam took a step towards the door, "Well, maybe your wife knows."

"No, I don't know, she's not here right now." He said quickly. The way these people were acting was less than odd. It was straight up freaky.

"Your son said she was." I countered, throwing them off.

"Did I?" Jake asked, looking at us innocently.

"She's getting groceries." Mr. Tanner said, "So, when Duane gets back, there's a number where he can get a hold of you?"

I smiled, "Oh no, we'll just check in with you later." We turned and walked down the steps as the door shut behind us, "That was kind of creepy, right? A little too Stepford?" I asked in a low voice, glancing over my shoulder.

Sam nodded, "Big time." Looking furtively about, I jerked my chin in the direction of the back of the house. Sam and I snuck around, crouching below a window. Peering in, we saw a woman tied to a chair and gagged as Jake and Mr. Tanner both entered the room. There was already a nasty wound on the woman's shoulder when Jake rolled up his sleeves while Mr. Tanner sliced his arm with a knife, allowing the blood to fall into the wound. Upon seeing the knife, Sam and I went into action, drawing our guns and kicked down the door.

Rushing in, Mr. Tanner lunged forward with the knife in his hand. I shot him down with three shots to the chest. Before Sam could get an aim on Jake, he jumped out the window, shattering glass, and darted off into the woods. He let out a curse, evidently giving him time to get away.

I made my way to the woman, quickly getting her out of her bonds and gag as she began to sob hysterically, "You're alright now. We're gonna take you to a hospital."

"Thank you," She sobbed out. I watched her reach over her shoulder, bringing a bloodied hand out in front of her. Careful about the blood on her hands, I helped her up and ushered her out to the Impala.

"What the hell is going on?" I growled out, starting the car as Sam got in, closing the passenger door.

"I don't know, man." Sam muttered, "This is just freaky." He glanced to Beverly, the woman we rescued—who was also Mrs. Tanner, "I-I wish Abigail was here with us."

"Yeah, same here." I admitted, peeling away from the house, a spray of gravels scattering behind us, "Keep an eye out for that little freak," I glanced up into the rearview mirror, remembering Mrs. Tanner in the back, "No offense, ma'am." Sam pursed his lips, nodding.

Pulling up in front of the clinic, Sam helped her out and led her to the door, allowing me to head to the trunk. I glanced around furtively, ensuring that no one was watching and grabbed the body of Mr. Tanner, whom we wrapped in canvas. Entering the clinic, two women aside from Beverly, and Sam were in a back room. The woman in a white coat, the doctor obviously, turned, looking horrified, "Is that—"

"Mr. Tanner?" I asked, "Yeah."

"Was he attacked too?" She asked.

"Uh . . . no, actually, he did the attacking and then he got himself shot." I answered.

"Shot?" The doctor echoed, uncomprehendingly.

"Yeah." I said, unfeelingly.

"And who are you?" She queried.

"U.S. Marshal. I'd show you my badge, but uh . . ." I hefted the body of the former Mr. Tanner.

"Oh. Sorry. Bring him back here." She said, leading us into the lab. Lying the body on a table, Dr. Lee ushered Beverly into another room where she sat across from her, treating the wound on her left shoulder.

"Wait, you said Jake helped him? Your son Jake?" She said in disbelief after Beverly told her what had happened. Sam and I stood towards the back.

Beverly nodded, "They beat me. Tied me up."

"I don't believe it." The cute blonde had said.

"Pam." The doctor chastised, "Beverly . . . do you have any idea why they would act this way? Any history of chemical dependency?" The doctor asked.

Beverly shook her head, "No, of course not. I don't know why. One minute they were my husband and my son. And the next, they had the devil in them."

Sam and I exchanged a look at her last words, "We gotta talk." I said to Sam in a low voice, exiting the lab, "Those guys were whacked out of their gourds."

"What do you think?" Sam asked as we came to a stop, ensuring that we were out of earshot, "Multiple demons, mass possession?"

"If it is a possession there could be more. I mean, God knows how many, it could be like a fucking Shriner convention." Sam blew out a heated breath.

"Great." He said dryly.

"Of course, that's one way to wipe out a town, you take it from the inside." I said. It was a frightening position to say the least.

"I don't know, man. We didn't see any of the demon smoke with Mr. Tanner, or any of the other usual signs." Sam then sighed, "One of the few times Abs isn't with us, and it turns out to be something _huge_. She'd be able to snuff out who's possessed and who's not."

"Yeah, well, it's obvious the cavalry isn't arriving—the lines are _caput_. No way of calling in, no way of calling out. This means, we're behind enemy lines or whatever the hell this is." Sam stared at me for a long moment. This was the best thing I could do to reassure him. Hell, maybe this was the best way to reassure myself, "Now, something turned Mr. Tanner into a monster," I said moving down the hall a ways, turning my back to Sam, "And you know if you woulda taken out the other one there'd be one less to worry about." I pointed out, turning slightly to face him.

"I'm sorry, alright? I hesitated, Dean, it was a kid!" Sam's jaw tightened.

I shook my head, "No, it was an _it_. Not the best time for a bleeding heart, Sam." The sound of heels clicking on the floor behind us indicated that the good old doctor was approaching, causing us to turn.

"How's the patient?" Sam asked, trying to sound optimistic.

Dr. Lee's eyes flashed with anger, "Terrible! What the hell happened out there?" She snapped.

"We don't know." I answered truthfully.

"Yeah? Well, you just killed my next door neighbor." She continued, the anger in her voice never wavered. _That was surprising_, I thought sarcastically.

"We didn't have a choice." I protested, seeing her eye narrow.

"Maybe so, but we need the county Sheriff. I need the coroner . . ." She began to list off different officiants, causing Sam to cut her off.

"Phones are down." He said.

"I know, I tried. Tell me you have a police radio in the car?" She practically begged, searching for some form of good news.

"Yeah we do. But it crapped out just like everything else." Sam replied.

"I don't understand what is happening." Dr. Lee muttered, holding a hand to her head.

"How far is it to the next town?" I questioned, we needed to get Abigail and Bobby down here, along with Ellen.

"It's about forty miles down to Sidewinder." She said.

I nodded, "Alright, I'm gonna go down there, see if I can find some help." I clapped Sam on the shoulder, "My partner'll stick around, keep you guys safe."

A confused look flashed across her face, "Safe from what?"

"We'll get back to you on that." I said before turning on my heel, heading out. Sam followed me to the front door of the clinic, "I'm gonna try and get ahold of Abs, Bobby, and Ellen. There's no way we can do this by ourselves." I said in a low tone, "Keep an eye out on Mrs. Tanner, see if there is any changes in her, hell, in anybody."

"What if she goes crazy like Jake and her husband?" I paused, arching my brow at him, "Nevermind. Shoot her. Got it." He said dryly.

"I'll be back in an hour, two hours tops if I can get ahold of anybody." I told him, "If I can't…then we're doing this solo." Sam's brows knitted, slowly nodding. There wasn't an ultimatum here for us. We were already too deep into this situation, "Stay safe." Sam nodded again, "Don't hesitate to shoot anyone. I mean it. Whatever they turn into," I shook my head, "They're not human anymore."

"Alright." Sam said dejectedly.

"Good." I said, exiting the building. At the speed I was going, I had to slam on the brakes in order to prevent myself from rear-ending a wrecked car. Stopping, I stepped out of the car, carrying my gun close as I walked around it, investigating it. The windows on the car were smashed and blood covered the seat; on the ground by the driver's side laid a large, bloody knife. I stooped down to pick it up, turning it over in my hand. Straightening back up, I looked up and down the road in search for the owners of the car, however, upon finding the knife, it was becoming very unlikely that they were even alive. I turned, getting back into the car.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Singer's Auto Salvage—Day**_

_**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**_

"Bobby, somethin' is wrong, and I _swear _I can feel it!" I paced around in the kitchen running my fingers through my hair continuously. I could feel Bobby's eyes following me out of irritation, "They've not called. Nothin'."

"You might be right," Bobby said, sitting back in a chair lifting a bottle of beer to his lips and took a swallow, "But they could also get crappy reception out there too."

I paused, leaning against the counter, "That's what Dean told me when I talked to him the other night. Regardless, it ain't like Dean _or_ Sam to just…not call me or pick up!" My hand clapped against my thigh loudly, "I don't like this, Bobby." I sensed a hint of smugness from him, "What's so funny?"

"You. You're like a mother that lost her kids at a supermarket," Bobby replied gruffly, "Dean and Sam are _fine_. They've been on many hunts without you."

"Yeah, I know." I muttered, "But still…" I looked at him, worried, "I never feel this anxious unless it has somethin' to do with a hellacious monster or demonic activity, like the premonition Sam had." Bobby's face steeled.

"What was it about?" He asked.

I shook my head, "I don't know, it was brief. All I know some kid was tied to a chair and Dean blew his brains out, no questions asked. Then I get an out of service tone every time I call either Dean or Sam's phone? My spidey-senses are tinglin' somethin' awful."

* * *

_**Sam's Point of View**_

_**Clinic—Day**_

_**Rivergrove, Oregon**_

Dean had been gone ten minutes. Dr. Lee took the opportunity to take a look at Mr. Tanner's blood in order to get a prognosis on what could've made him act as viciously as he did. I paced in the room, impatient was putting it lightly.

"Huh." Dr. Lee hummed out as she peered into the microscope.

I halted, "What?"

She leaned back, turning her head to look at me, "His lymphocyte percentage is pretty high. His body was fighting off a viral infection."

I furrowed my brows, "Really? What kind of virus?" I asked.

Dr. Lee shrugged, appearing to be complexed, "Can't say for sure."

"Do you think an infection could have made him act like that?" I asked, concerned.

She shook her head, "None that I've ever heard of." Her shoulders lifted up in a half-shrug as she continued, "I mean, some can cause dementia, but not that kind of violence. And besides, I've never heard of one that did this to the blood."

My brows knitted at that, "Did what?"

"There's this . . . weird residue." She explained as I crossed the room over to her and peered into the microscope, "If I didn't know better I'd say it was sulfur."

Looking at the blood sample, her hypothesis was correct, "Sulfur." I echoed grimly.

I sure hoped Dean was making some progress.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Blacktop—Day**_

Driving along the road a few more miles, I came to a complete stop at the bridge. There was a roadblock of several cars and a half-dozen locals with guns—one of them being Jake. I stopped the car, frowning. Something bangs down on the roof of the car, causing me to jump as a man leaned over into the car.

"Oh-ho-ho. Hey." I said warily.

"Sorry. Road's closed." The man said, jerking his chin to the roadblock.

"Yeah, I can see that. What's up?" I asked.

"Quarantine."

I scrunched my face, "Quarantine? What is it?"

"Don't know." He replied, "Something going around out there."

I nodded, licking my lips, "Uh-huh. Who told you that?"

"County Sheriff." The man said, matter-of-fact.

I glanced to the posse behind him, "Is he here?"

"No. He called." He replied, "Say, why don't you get out of the car and we'll talk a little?"

I laughed nervously, "Well, you are a handsome devil, but I don't swing that way, sorry. Fiancée and kid back home."

The man didn't budge, "I'd sure appreciate it if you got out of the car, just for a quick minute."

"Yeah, I'll bet you would." I said, putting the car into a quick reverse as the man grabbed me by the collar and is dragged along. The guy's posse at the roadblock began firing as I swung the car around sharply, _thankfully_ shaking the man off as I headed back to town, "So much for calling in the cavalry." I muttered, taking a hand off the wheel to rub my throat and chest roughly.

Driving back into town, I drove a lot slower than what I had been, checking my cellphone for the millionth time for signal. There was none. _Surprise, surprise_. In a bout of frustration, I tossed it into the seat, "Son of a bitch…" Things went from bad to worse in a days' time. About the time I looked up at the road, the same man I had talked to earlier that day, the Master Sergeant, stepped into the road with his rifle pointed directly at me. I slammed my foot onto the break as the tires screeched out.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Hands where I can see 'em!" The man shouted.

My hands flew up, "Okay!"

"Get out of the car! Out of the car!" He demanded.

"Alright, easy there, big guy." I said, opening the door and getting out slowly. Standing, I pulled out a handgun and pointed it at him, "Alright, put it down!"

"Lower it now!" The man ordered, growing tenser, "Are you one of 'em?"

"No!" I shouted, "Are you?"

"No!" He replied.

"You could be lying!" I yelled.

"So could you!" He barked back.

"Alright! Alright. We could do this all day, alright?" I sighed lowering my gun slightly, "Let's just uh, let's take it easy before we kill each other."

The man relaxed slightly, lowering his rifle to the ground, "What's going on with everybody?"

"I don't know." I answered truthfully.

"My neighbor . . . Mr. Rogers, he —"

"You've got a neighbor named Mr. Rogers?" I asked, way too amused at the coincidence.

"Not anymore." That wiped any traces of humor from my mind, shaking my head, "He came at me with a hatchet. I put him down. He's not the only one, I mean, it's happening to everyone."

"I'm heading over to the Doc's place, there's still some people left." I said.

"No, no way." He said, shaking his head, "I'm getting the hell out."

"There's no way out, they got the bridge covered," I said, "Come on."

The man gave me a hard stare, "I don't believe you."

I raised my hands, "Fine, stay here, be my guest." The man hesitated before changing his mind. He pulled out a handgun, keeping it pointed in my direction as he climbed into the passenger side; I kept mine up as well, "Well, this ought to be a relaxing drive." Fortunately, it was a brief one. Pulling up in front of the clinic, the man and I got out and I rapped on the glass door, "Sammy? Open up!"

Moments later, Sam came to the door letting us both in, "Did you guys, uh, get to a phone?"

"Road block." I said, turning to look at the man, "I'm gonna have a word. Doc's inside." After he left, Sam turned and looked at me.

"What's going on out there, Dean?" He asked.

"Man, I don't know, I feel like Chuck Heston in the Omega Man, I mean, Sarge is the only sane person I could find. What are we dealing with, do you know?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah. Doc thinks it's a virus."

"Okay, great. What do you think?" I asked.

"I think she's right." Sam replied, honestly.

I blinked, surprised, "Really?"

"Yeah. And I think the infected are trying to infect others with blood-to-blood contact." I furrowed my brows at the news, "Oh, but it gets better. The uh, the virus? Leaves traces of sulfur in the blood."

"A demonic virus?" I deadpanned.

"Yeah, more like demonic germ warfare." He muttered, "At least it explains why I've been having visions. Why Abigail was affected by it."

"It's like a Biblical plague." I breathed out hotly, "Great."

"Yeah. You don't know how right you are, Dean. I've been poring through Dad's journal, found something about the Roanoke colony."

"And?" I implored.

"Dad always had a theory about Croatoan. He thought it was a demon's name. Sometimes known as Deva or sometimes Resheph. A demon of plague and pestilence." He explained.

I scoffed, slapping my hand on my thigh, "Well, that-that's terrific. Why here, why now?"

Sam shook his head, clueless, "I have no idea. But Dean, who knows how far this thing can spread? We gotta get out of here, we gotta warn people—get Abigail and Megan to a safer place."

"Yeah, thing about that is—" I started to say until Sarge's voice cut through the clinic.

"They've got one! In here!" He shouted. I furrowed my brows at Sam before running to the next room that Sarge was standing by.

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

"The wife—she's infected." Sam replied briefly.

Sarge held a grim look as he turned his head mine and Sam's way, "We've gotta take care of this. We can't just leave her in there. My neighbors—they were strong. The longer we wait, the stronger she'll get."

I didn't waste a second pulling out my pistol, stalking into the lab.

"You're gonna kill Beverly Tanner?" Pam asked in disbelief. Her voice was flat and monotonous.

Sam looked over to Dr. Lee, "Doctor, could there be any treatment? Some kind of cure for this?"

The doctor hesitated. Battling with a slurry of emotions within her. Time was wasting the longer she didn't speak, "Can you cure it?" I questioned, urgency coating my voice.

"For God's sake, I don't even know what _it_ is!" She cried out.

Mark shifted around, "I told you, it's just a matter of time before she breaks through."

"Just leave her in there, you can't shoot her like an animal!" Horrorstricken, Pam protested, looking each person within the room, searching for some kind of leeway as we made our way to the door of the utility room where Beverly was being held.

"Sam." My brother nodded, pressing his body against the door, hand gripping the handle to the room. I threw a glance to Sarge, whose name really was Mark. His rifle was in position. I drew mine as Sam carefully opened the door. Mark and I took up offensive positions. Within the room, Beverly was found huddled on the floor, knees drawn up. Her body jerked at our approach, eyes pleading.

"Mark, what are you doing?" She asked, bewildered, "Mark, it's-it's them! They locked me in here, they, they tried to kill me!" _So she was using their friendship against him_, "They're infected, not me! Please, Mark! You've known me all your life! Please!"

I turned my head to Sam, "You sure she's one of 'em?" I needed to be sure before a giant mistake was made. When Sam nodded, his face twisting in distress, Mark pulled back, unable to do what was needed to be done. Eyes locked on her, I stepped forward and fired twice, putting Beverly Tanner out of her misery.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Singer's Auto Salvage—Night**_

_**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**_

I sat in the room Dean and I shared with my back against the door holding my cellphone against my forehead. I've tried in vain to prevent myself from calling and blowing up the boys' phones in order to stay off the 'worried mom' status as Bobby would've put it. It had been two days without a word from them.

Two. Solid. Days.

Needless to say, I kept my calling down to a call to each of their phones every eight hours. Worried was beginning to be the light version of what I was starting to feel, downright sick with dread was getting close to it. _Were they hurt? Is everything okay? Why haven't they called? What if something bad happened?_ The thought of a bad event occurring that had to do with Sam's premonition dog knotted my gut.

"I shouldn't have stayed behind." I said aloud, squeezing my eyes shut, "I should've went with them. I could've prevented somethin' from happenin'—been an extra set of eyes and ears." I flipped my phone open, staring at the screen. It had been a picture of Sam and Dean making the most hilarious faces. I bit my lip staring at it, half-tempted to track their phones to their exact location. My thumb hit the dial button, moving down the call list to Dean's number. I whispered a silent prayer, hoping for some kind of a sign that Dean was okay or that he would pick up. My heart sunk lower than what it already was upon hearing his voicemail.

"_This is Dean's _other_, other number. Leave a message_."

I clenched my jaw upon hearing the beep, "Dean." I inhaled deeply, "_Please_ tell me ya'll are okay…I'm goin' crazy." My voice began to break a little, "I'm terrified, Dean. I know somethin' bad's happenin'…I can feel it in my gut." I blinked away tears, "I-I just need to know ya'll are okay, if I need to come down there to Oregon and help. If you get this, call me. _Please_." I stared up at the ceiling for a moment, debating on something, "I love you…" Snapping it shut, I broke down, resting my head against my knees.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Clinic—Night**_

_**Rivergrove, Oregon**_

Everything was quiet. Dead quiet. The people in the clinic, aside from Sam and I didn't venture near the utility room where Beverly Tanner's corpse lay. Every shade in the clinic were drawn, forming some kind of security blanket. Mark peered through them cautiously while Sam pulled out a hunting knife, checking the sharpness of the blade. Trust me when I said it, the knife could slice a strand of hair down the middle.

I merely glanced up from loading a gun at each individual, jumping to my feet when a shrill scream pierced through the quiet building, "Oh God! Is there any on me? Am I okay?" It was Pam. Setting the gun down, Mark, Sam, and I ran into the lab where Pam was standing with a vial of blood lying at her feet, busted.

Dr. Lee was at her side in the matter of seconds, "You're clean, you're okay." She consoled.

"Why are we staying here?" Pam pleaded, "Please, let's just go!"

"No, we can't," All eyes were on me as I jutted my thumb back to the front of the building, "because those things are everywhere."

Pam sank to the floor, terrified, "Oh god . . ."

"She's right about one thing." I looked over to Sam, "We can't stay here—we've gotta get out of here, get to Bobby's? The Roadhouse? Somewhere. Let people know what's coming."

I nodded, licking my lips, "Yeah, good point. Night of the Living Dead didn't exactly end pretty."

"Well, I'm not sure we've got a choice." Mark told us, "Lots of folks up here are good with rifles —" His eyes flickered to our weapons, "Even with all your hardware we're-we're easy targets. So unless you've got some explosives . . ."

Something caught Sam's eye, making him move to a shelf, "We could make some." He reached out, taking a bottle of Potassium Chloride down. _At least Abigail was here in spirit_, I thought. She was smart when it came to explosives, like a female MacGyver. So was Dad's extensive knowledge. It rubbed off on Sam pretty well.

Just then, someone started to pound frantically from outside the building, "Hey! Let me in, let me in! Please!"

Running to the lobby, Mark looked to us both, "It's Duane Tanner!" He opened the door, letting him in. He had a backpack and was limping.

"Thank god." Duane breathed out.

Mark held the panting boy by his shoulders, "Duane, you okay?"

I leaned over to Sam, "That's the guy that I, uh…" I then clicked my tongue, bringing my thumb across my throat.

Sam nodded, "Yeah." He sounded scared.

"Who else is in here?" Duane asked, heading towards the back.

"Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there, chief." I grabbed his arm, preventing him from going anywhere else, "Hey Doc! Give Duane a good once-over, would you?" We followed the doctor into the lab as she called out for her assistant.

Duane looked up at me, "Who're you?"

"Never mind who I am." I told him, nodding over to Dr. Lee, "Doc."

"Yeah, okay." She understood.

"Duane. Where you been?" Mark asked.

"On a fishing trip up by Roslyn." I pursed my lips at his answer. It was the same one his brother, Jake, gave us, "I came back this afternoon. I . . . I saw Roger McGill being dragged out of his house by people we know!" He exclaimed, "They started cutting him with knives! I ran, I've been hiding in the woods ever since." He looked to each of us, "Has anybody seen my mom and dad?"

I pursed my lips together, turning my back to the kid, "Awkward . . ." I uttered to Sam, who sent me a look. Whatever.

"You're bleeding." I heard Dr. Lee say, causing me to turn back around, seeing a deep gash in Duane's leg. _Shit_.

"Where'd you get that?" I questioned.

Duane shrugged, looking back up at me from his seeing the gash, "I was running, I must have tripped."

"Tie him up, there's rope in there." I told Mark, motioning to the utility room.

Duane's eyes widened, "Wait . . ." He rose off the stool.

I pulled my gun on the kid, "Sit down!"

"I'm sorry, Duane, he's right." Mark told the frightened kid in an apologetic tone, "We've gotta be careful."

"Careful?" He asked, "About what?"

"Did they bleed on you?" I questioned.

Duane's face scrunched in disgust, "No, what the hell? No!"

Sam turned to Dr. Lee, "Doc? Any way to know for sure, any test?"

"I've studied Beverly's bloodwork backwards and forwards." She replied.

Duane's eyes widened, "My mom?"

"It took three hours for the virus to incubate." She explained, ignoring the kid's question, "The sulfur didn't appear in the blood until then, so . . . no, there'd be no way of knowing." Her expression looked grim, "Not until after Duane turns."

"Dean," Sam said in a low tone, "I gotta talk to you. Now." I glanced at Mark, who nodded in understanding. Following Sam, we both left the lab. When we were out of earshot, Sam stopped and turned to face me. He was upset, "This is my vision, Dean. It's happening."

"Yeah, I figured." I stated.

"You can't kill him, alright? Not yet." He said, "We don't know if he's infected or not."

"Well, I think we're pretty damn sure. Guy shows up out of nowhere, he's got a cut on his leg, his whole family's infected?"

Sam shifted, "Alright, then we should keep him tied up, and we should wait and see."

I let out a scoff, "For _what_? For him to Hulk out and infect somebody else?" I shook my head at him, "No thanks, can't take that chance." I started to head back to the lab until Sam stopped me by putting his hand on my chest. I glanced down, then up at him, "Hey look, man, I'm not happy about this, okay? But it's a tough job and you know that."

"It's supposed to be tough, Dean." Sam said, "We're supposed to struggle with this, that's the whole point."

"What does that buy us?" I asked him.

"A clear conscience, for one!" Sam exclaimed.

"Well, it's too late for that."

I made a move. Sam stopped me again, jaw set, "What the hell's happened to you?"

"What?"

"You might kill an innocent man, and you don't even care!" He protested, "You don't act like yourself anymore, Dean." Sam scoffed, "Hell, you know what? You're acting like one of those things out there."

Anger welled up from within as I pushed past Sam for a third time. When he tried to stop me again, I lost it. I grabbed him by the collar, hurling him against the far wall with a loud thump. I walked back out into the hall, locking the door behind me.

Sam pounded his fists against the door, "Hey!" He rattled the lock, "Open the damn door, Dean!" Sam started pounding on the door once again, "Don't do it, Dean! _Don't_!"

Walking back down the hallway, it felt like time was beginning to slow down. Everything started to blend together and stretch out—like tunnel vision. Sam's shouts of protest were drowned out with static, rendering me in a dangerous state of mind—kill or be killed.

_These premonitions, they're subject to change_. Abigail's voice echoed in the back of my head. I narrowed my eyes, this had to be done. Reaching behind, I pulled my gun from my waistband, dropping the clip out of it. I paused, tapping the clip against the butt, then replaced it before I opened the door to the lab, and shut it behind me.

In front of me sat Duane, tied up to a chair with Mark, Pam, and the Doc standing nearby. It was so quiet in that moment, you could hear a pen drop. Staring Duane down, the kid shuffled in his chair, terrified at what was unfurling.

"No, you're not gonna . . ." He shook his head, "No, no, I swear it's not in me!"

"Oh God." I heard Pam squeak out, "We're all gonna die."

"Maybe he's telling the truth." Mark said uneasily.

I merely shook my head slowly, never taking my eyes off of Duane, "No, he's not him, not anymore."

"Stop it!" He yelled out, "Ask her, ask the doctor! It's not in me!"

"I . . . I can't tell." She said.

"Please, don't." Duane sobbed out, "Don't, please. I swear, it's not in me, it's not in me, I swear, I, I swear it's not in me." Duane shook in the chair, breathing raggedly, "No, don't."

"I got no choice." I told him. I was _so_ ready to blow this kid's brains out. So ready to end the problem, right then and there. All I had to do was apply the _slightest_ of pressure, then _boom_, game over. Except I couldn't. That look of pale-faced horror easily matched that of Abigail's moments after hers and Sam's shared premonition had ended. She had mirrored that very exact moment, I realized.

_Whatever is supposed to happen, I-I think there's a good chance somethin' different will play out_.

I felt sick. Was I really going to shoot this kid with no clear evidence of him being infected?

_I know what kind of man you are, Dean._ I fought myself as this tense moment stretched on as Duane sobbed while the others in the room watched in silence—too scared to move or breathe. My hand started to tremble. _You're not a killer._

I grimaced, lowering it, "Damn it!" I turned and left the room. This crisis had been averted, but for how long?

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_I found myself standing out in the middle of a vacant street of some small town, somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. Why that region? The tall tell signs of evergreen and rocky mountaintops was a clear indication along with the cabin-esque appearance of several buildings lining up along the street. I shivered from the cool, November night air as I took off walking down the cold pavement. I was dressed in a pair of boots, jeans, a Heather gray tank top, and a thin, flannel button-up, but I was freezing!_

_Looking up, the stars hung in the sky like someone had dumped a jar of glitter across a table of black paper. Streetlights flickered every other minute or so. Very _Nightmare on Elm Street. _Just like every nightmare I had, that overwhelming sensation of anxiety washed over me and clung. There was no one in sight. Not one single soul. As I looked around, vapor from my breathing came out in wispy clouds. _

He's watching you…_a voice in my head whispered._

He's gonna find you…_another said shortly after. I frowned, growing considerably uneasy. These voices were hardly vocal unless something bad was going to happen. I also learned they were horrible advisors. _

Stay out of sight, Abigail…_a familiar voice said. It was urgent, and that scared me._ _I looked around._

"_Who's watching me?" I asked aloud, looking over my shoulder every chance I had. I started to jog up the street, straying to the line of trees that were across the street. I stayed there, hunkered down behind a rather sizeable tree, breathing hard. What the hell was going on?_

"_Long time, no see, Abby-girl," a familiar voice said from beside me. I jerked to the left, seeing a pair of glowing yellow eyes. I let out a painfully loud gasp as I straightened back to my feet as quickly as I could and backed up into the street. The demon only grinned, sauntering out from the cover of trees, "Why don't we have a little chat?" He flicked his wrist, sending my body around and forward as he came to my side. The bastard was _literally_ walking me!_

"_I'll talk, and _you_ listen." He said with a chuckle, "Like what I done with the place?" He asked, "Quiet, secluded, little town. One way in, one way out. The only way I like to run a little trial." His eyes fell on me, "Oh! That's right, you can't talk. So, I'll do that askin' for ya." His lips stretched out into a cocky grin, "What trial? A virus of mine, that's what. You and little Sammy are my guinea pigs—I was a little disappointed you stayed behind, Abby. Thought you'd be more of a good sport."_

_I glared at him, unable to act or speak._

"_Is that how you're going to look at the one who spared your life?" He taunted before making a 'tsking' sound with his tongue, "Shame, shame, Abby. You need to be a…little more appreciative. I can take it back, you know, then daddy dearest would've died for nothing."_

_Fury boiled under my skin. _Fuckin' bastard! _I screamed out in my head._

"_Oh, I was created equally in the image of my father," The demon said, his grin still in place, "Now, I know we've come to an agreement the last time we chatted. Your little abomination is still alive. Why?" My eyes narrowed at him, when he glanced upwards to the sky in a hostile way, "Seems like you have a set of eyes watching you _very _closely…" He paused, sending me to a stop as well. His eyes steeled as he pursed his lips, "Let's play a little game of cat and mouse, where you're the mouse and these are the cats."_

I blinked, "What?"

I was alone. On a bridge. Unarmed. There were shouts and laughter somewhere in the cover of night, the only form of light was coming from the the moon. I didn't know where I was at. I spun around, searching for some form of familiarity; this wasn't South Dakota, Bobby's salvage yard, or Sioux Falls in the least bit. I reached over and pinched myself hard, "Definitely not dreamin'." I breathed out, looking for a place to take cover. The sounds of people hollering was sounding louder, more voracious—I sensed nothing but ferocious animosity, and it sent chills up and down my spine. I jogged along the bridge a little ways spotting a wrecked car.

My boots crunched loudly as I moved across the shattered glass, leaning into the car in search of keys. From what I was able to distinguish in the moonlight, blood was covering the seats, "Lovely." I muttered, quickly ducking my head out from inside the car. I slid amongst the glass, gripping onto the side of the car with my left hand and hissed out in pain, realizing that I had sliced my hand. To my left, I saw the silhouettes of a group of people. My breath hitched in my throat, "Shit." I hunkered down onto all fours, sliding up and under the car for I was too late to start running. I would've been hunted down on the spot.

I waited, watching through the front of the car as the group got closer. They were all male, ranging from teenager to elderly. Each of them had some kind of weapon—a gun, a baseball bat, knives. I shivered again as the group stopped right in front of the car.

"Didn't you say you saw someone?" One of the men asked.

"Yeah, right here." Said another, considerably younger. I capped my hand over my mouth to keep myself from breathing loudly, resting my forehead against the cold ground. I prayed silently for a way out.

"There'd be no way that they could've just hopped over the bridge, they'd have died. Fifty foot drop into the river." Another voice said. Then all of them got quiet. _Shit. _I looked around me, seeing that the only option was to get out the other side and take my chances. The doors to the car opened.

"Not in here," the younger voice said, "You don't think-?" The sound of shoes scraping the ground caused me to move out quickly, squeezing myself against the rear wheel and fender while glancing around me, "Huh. Guess I was imagining things."

"Stupid boy." Another voice ground out, I jumped at the sound of a gun going off and a thump. My temple throbbed in pain. This was bad. It wasn't a couple heart stopping minutes later that the group had moved on. I sat flat on my ass, hands splayed on both sides of me until my left hand landed directly into a pool of hot, sticky liquid. I jumped up instantly, wiping the blood off my injured hand. Remembering the group, I looked down the road where they had left, then I looked up the road from where they came from…the town. That's where I needed to go. That's where Sam and Dean was at.

"Please be okay, guys." I whispered, rounding the car to see the body of a boy—eighteen years old at least with brown hair. I pressed my lips together out of shame. These people were infected. That made them hostile, deadly. Near the boy's corpse, I saw a knife. I approached him, cautious that something might happen and he would reanimate, like some kind of zombie. My gut twisted at the thought of that. Picking up the knife, I reached into the back pocket of the boy, finding a wallet and opened it, looking at the ID, "Jake Tanner. Eighteen years old." I murmured softly, shaking my head as I placed the wallet back, then headed towards town with the knife in tow.

Moving off the bridge and into the woods, I kept the road within sight. I was ensuring that I wasn't going to get lost. The longer I stayed out, the colder I became, eliciting a hard shudder that made me wrap my arms around myself, gripping my flannel button-up shirt closer. I'd stop every so often due to a twig snapping from somewhere off in the woods, pressing myself up against a tree in order to prevent myself from being detected. I couldn't sense anything nearby, however I could sense more of these _things_ close by. Gripping the handle on the knife with a white-knuckle grip, I readied myself for anything.

Another group of these infected people passed painfully slow. They were like a pack of wolves—dominant, sub-dominant, and subs—searching, listening for anything that could be potential prey. This group didn't so much speak. All I heard were feral grunts and snarls. With my heart hammering against my chest like a sledgehammer, I honestly didn't know how they couldn't hear it. With shaky breaths, I slowly peered around the tree, seeing nothing either way. I moved slow and cautious, looking over my shoulder. This was definitely a game of cat and mouse, a bad one at that. I could almost feel that demonic bastard's eyes following me every step I took. His presence never left.

Coming out onto the road, I kept my eyes peeled for any sign of movement. I knew I was drawing closer to town because houses were in sight, meaning I wasn't too far from the boys, or at least, I shouldn't be.

_Stay out of sight!_ A voice screeched. I grimaced at the suddenness and how loud it was, but it was too late. I heard a snarl from the left. I turned to see a woman sprinting out from a house, heading straight for me. My heart sank and I held the knife, ready for a fight. When she got closer, she flung herself at me, hands poised to tear and teeth bared like an animal. I dodged the first round of attacks, getting in punch or two that knocked the crazy bitch back a few steps, but she was unaffected by them for the most part. It was like she was hopped up on some kind of drug, and God, was she stout.

Her hand lashed out, hitting me squared in the jaw, effectively sending me to the ground and losing the knife. It had slid somewhere out of reach where I had taken a moment to search for it, and lunged for it, only for the woman to grab me by the ankle, "Get off me!" I bit out, taking my other foot and kicked her in the face a few times before she let out a screech, letting go. I literally bear-crawled to the knife, picking it up and rolled, jabbing the knife directly through the woman's chin and up into her head when she rushed me again. Falling to the ground in an unglorified heap, I pulled the knife out with a sickening squelch, wincing from the throbbing pain in my hand. I flexed it a couple of times with a distasteful look at it.

"Definitely gonna need stitches," I muttered, wiping the blade off on my pant leg.

It must've taken me close to thirty minutes to find the center of town, at least an hour and a half in total from fighting a person or two on the way there. I was exhausted by the time I had spotted the Impala sitting in front of a clinic. Becoming overwhelmed with emotion, I ran to the front of the building, beating on the doors, "Let me in!" I shouted, "Sammy! Dean!" My voice cracked, "Guys! It's me! _Please!_"

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

"Guys, you might want to take a look at this," Mark called out as a series of bangs and someone shouting at the front of the building. Sam and I shared a look, setting down the bottles filled with Potassium Chloride and rags as we came to the lobby, seeing Mark looking out of the window. He turned, giving us a look, "You happen to know a blonde?"

I scrunched my face at the question, "Yeah—?"

"Dean!" A voice shouted out.

My eyes widened, "It couldn't be…"

"Sammy, please! I know you two are in there!" There was a series of bangs on the window, "Guys!"

"I thought Abigail was at Bobby's…" Sam whispered, shocked by hearing Abigail outside.

I looked at him, "She is." Mark turned to the window again, readying his rifle.

"So what do you want me to do?" Mark asked nodding outside, "This girl obviously knows you two boys."

Pam and Dr. Lee came into the room, confused, "What's going on? Who's out there?" Pam questioned.

"This is obviously some kind of mind trick…" I said, getting uncomfortable way too fast. I didn't like this. Sam stepped towards the window until I caught his elbow, "What are you doing?"

"It's Abigail, Dean." Sam said, glancing to the door.

"How can she be here when she's a day's drive away?" I hissed out, "This is some kind of sick joke." Another series of bangs rattled the windows.

"Dean! Please! It's freezin' out here." Abigail's voice called out, _pleading_. I clenched my jaw, desperately trying to ignore the sound of this illusion. Sam's face twisted, battling himself.

"We have to help her." Sam said softly, tears were welling in his eyes.

My stomach twisted into knots, "That. Isn't. Abigail." I told him, "God knows if it was Abigail, I'd be tearing down the walls, but there's no fucking way that's her."

"_Dean-_," Sam started to protest, clearly upset. _You just don't know, Sammy_, I thought, seeing Mark watch whoever was outside, "If you don't think that's Abigail, then look outside."

"Fine." I spat out. Moving to the window, I pushed open the shutters. Lo and behold, Abigail was crouched beside the Impala with her hands up to her forehead—a knife in tow. Her head lifted up, staring straight at me with wide eyes and she got to her feet, rushing up to the window.

"Dean!" Her shoulders shuddered, "Please, it's me!" I stepped back from the windows, shocked, "Dean? Dean!" Her pounding on the window was frantic, "Shit, shit, shit!" I heard her curse out, "Poughkeepsie!" She shouted out.

Sam's head whipped to me, eyes widened, "That's Abigail! Open the door!" I demanded when Sam and Mark rushed to the door. It wouldn't budge.

Sam slammed his shoulder against it, "It won't budge!" He grunted out. I ran over to the doors, joining Sam and Mark as the three of us slammed our shoulders against the door. Through the glass, Abigail joined us, grabbing the handles and pulled when we pushed. I looked behind her and saw a man rushing up with an axe.

"Son of a bitch…" I breathed out as Sam looked up to see the man coming.

"Behind you!" Sam and I shouted out. Abigail turned, then leaped out of the way as the man brought down the axe, sparks flying from the blade meeting the concrete. The man recuperated quickly, swinging the axe at her from side to side. Abigail backed up, missing the head of the axe by mere inches with each swing.

"What the fuck is wrong with this door?!" I grunted after Sam slammed once more against it.

"I don't know," Sam huffed out, "but something obviously doesn't want us out." The three civilians stood by the windows, watching in terror as Abigail and this infected thing fought for what seemed like several long minutes.

"Somebody do something!" Pam exclaimed, "She's gonna die!"

"We are!" I snapped, "The god damn door won't budge!"

"Then stand back," Mark said, as Sam and I took a step to the side when he brought the butt of his rifle down on the glass, shattering it. Sam and I didn't hesitate squeezing through the frame of the door when the man started to get the upper hand of the fight. Abigail fell backwards and he was on her in no time. I grabbed my pistol, firing four times into his back, and drug the body backwards as Abigail stared up at us teary-eyed.

"C'mon, we gotta get back inside before more realize we're out," Sam said, looking around warily. We helped her up, wasting no time getting back into the cover of the clinic. There wasn't a word said until after we'd boarded up the doors with another door, a desk, and a filing cabinet, along with a few chairs for good measure. I looked at Abigail, still not able to believe that she was really here. She was still trembling and breathing hard from the fight. I pulled her against me tightly, ensuring myself that this was indeed her. More or less, meaning that the she was safe and out of danger.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment, feeling her arms wrap around my waist tightly, "How did you get here?" I asked, as we parted, allowing Sam to encase her in his arms, "We've been cut off for three days almost."

Abigail shook her head, still unable to speak. Her face twisted until tears were flowing down her cheeks, "I don't know." She managed to say, "I was at Bobby's…" She then stepped back from Sam, "And-and I had a nightmare…the demon was in it." She muttered low enough for just us to hear, "Then the next thing I know, I'm here."

My face darkened, "What?"

"H-how is that even possible?" Sam asked, concern in his voice.

She shrugged, "I don't know. Teleportation?"

"Beam me up, Scotty…" I muttered, seeing Sam purse his lips out of distaste.

Abigail rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand, closing her eyes, "What the hell is going on out there?" She asked, "Those people—"

"Aren't people anymore," I said, grimly.

"It's some kind of demonic virus. This virus, it gets contracted through blood-to-blood contact," Sam added, eyes sweeping my hands and arms for anything potentially dangerous, "I don't think just getting it on you is contagious."

She glanced down at herself. It was a moment before she spoke, "Yeah, I got that. The demon told me before I ended up…well, here, enjoyin' a great round of cat and mouse." I grew angry, _furious_, that the demon had showed himself, yet again, to Abigail, "I came from the bridge and I swear it's taken me an hour and a half to get to this place. It's _crawlin_' with those things."

"We'll show you to a bathroom," I said, "Get you cleaned up."

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

Two hours had passed after I arrived here via _Demon Airlines_. I was able to get to a bathroom and clean up, thanks to Dean and Sam. Washing off the dried blood from my hands, arms, neck and face, I stood in front of the mirror staring at my reflection for a long beat. I was pale faced, exhausted, and disheveled, not to mention scratched and bruised from making my way to this place from the bridge and through the woods.

I flexed my left hand, grimacing as it throbbed painfully. The bite mark on my arm, however, seemed to be twice as painful. It was enough to put me on my knees. I let out shaky breath, running a hand through my hair. I couldn't let anyone know about my injuries. They would've went berserk—especially Mark, the trigger happy ex-Marine. Luckily, I was able to swipe some tape off of a desk so that I could fashion myself a bandage on my arm and hand. It didn't take long, about five minutes.

Opening the door, I kept my arms crossed as I spotted Sam and Dean close by prepping rags and glass bottles with some kind of liquid, Potassium Chloride. Mark was sitting in a chair, rifle across his lap while Pam and Dr. Lee were through the building. Dean looked up from plugging a bottle up with a rag, a look of disbelief still evident in his eyes. Sam's too. They were just as freaked out as me, of course, they weren't the ones jerked up from Sioux Falls and placed in the middle of BFE with a bunch of rabid humans and nothing to fight with either.

Dr. Lee walked back into the room with her hands in her pockets, looking to Dean and Sam, "It's been over four hours." She told them, "Duane's blood is still clean. I don't think he's infected." I furrowed my brows at Dean, "I'd like to untie him, if that's alright." Dean and Sam shared a look before Sam nodded and Dean lowered his head, guiltily, returning to making an explosive.

"Sure. Yeah." He said, then she walked away just as I walked over, taking a seat across from them as Sam said, "You know I'm gonna ask you why."

"Yeah, I know." Dean muttered, obviously not feeling too proud of himself at the moment.

"You didn't kill Duane?" I asked, sensing that was what Sam was implying.

Dean's eyes met mine, "No."

I smiled at him knowingly, "I knew you wouldn't." Seeing a whisper of a smile grace his lips.

"So, why?" Sam asked, and Dean's smile disappeared, a sour expression returning, "Why didn't you do it?" Dean's eyes flickered to me once more. Sam wasn't going to get an answer as long as he was breathing. The silence drug on for a minute or so before Dean cleared his throat, looking at his brother meaningfully.

"We need more alcohol." He said. Exasperated, Sam threw me a look that meant to say, 'you get something out of him', then he got up to go to another part of the clinic. I felt uneasy about the little blonde, Pam. I hadn't seen much of her since I had arrived…it was almost like she had some kind of animosity dwelling within her.

"So why didn't you kill Duane?" I asked pushing the thought out, "Not that I had any doubts…"

Dean set down a rag letting out a heavy breath, "I don't know, Abs." He muttered, "I was going to. I swear I was." His eyes fell to the table, "My finger was on the trigger and I was going to shoot the kid…and…I couldn't." Dean looked at me fully with tears in his eyes, "I-I saw the look on the kid's face and I saw yours back at the hospital, and I just, _couldn't_." He clenched and unclenched his hands, looking back down at them, "It was like, I kept hearing you…I can't fully explain it."

I smiled at him, "I don't know if I'd want to admit that, papa-bear. You might've just made my ego get a little bigger." Dean let out a breathy chuckle looking back up at me, "So, are you sayin' I was right?"

He hesitated, smile in place as he nodded, "Yeah…yeah, I guess I am." We leaned across the table, kissing each other tenderly until I frowned, pulling away and turned, furrowing my brows, "Abs? What's going on?"

There was a loud crash that sent me to my feet, along with Mark and Dean, their hands on their weapons, "Somethin's wrong…" I said, "Sam?!"

Dean clenched his jaw, "Sammy?!" The three of us ran down to where Sam was supposed to be at. Dean jiggled the handle, "Sam? Open the door!" I hissed, grabbing my chest. When I'd done that, Dean knew I knew something he didn't. He kicked the door open, seeing Pam on top of Sam, hand sliced open and Sam's shirt torn and bloody. Dean fired three times before Pam's body convulsed and fell to the floor, dead. Sam reached out a bloody hand to Dean and I. Instinctively, we began to lean over to take it. I felt a hand touch my shoulder, looking over to see Dr. Lee shaking her head quietly, while Dean was stopped by Mark, who had pulled him back, looking at him grimly.

"She bled on him. He's got the virus." He said, causing my heart to clench. Sam, realizing that what Mark had said was true, retracted his hand and laid his head on the floor. I felt something warm run down my arm, making me fold my arms together while I placed my left hand over my right arm.

Sam was now cleaned up, sitting in a stool with a bandage pressed to his chest. His eyes were down, which absolutely broke my heart as much as it hurt seeing Dean and Sam so scared. Like a Deep South revival, what was left of the group surrounded us in this order: Dean was pacing like a trapped animal in a cage about to go ballistic, Mark was solemn, yet resolutely standing near the door while Duane stayed near the back of the room.

"Doc, check his wound again, would you?" The doctor wouldn't move from where she stood at the shelves, "Doctor!"

"What's she need to examine him for?" Mark started in, "You saw what happened."

"Did her blood actually enter your wound?" Dr. Lee asked. The truth lied within Sam's teary eyes.

"Come on, of course it did!" Mark said irrationally, stepping forward from the door frame, gesturing to the bandage on Sam's chest. Dean stopped pacing, glaring at him until I stood in front of both men, "We don't know that for sure." I said.

Duane spoke up, "We can't take a chance."

"You know what we have to do." Mark said resolutely, and I glared ferociously at him, getting near Sam defensively.

"Nobody is shooting Sam." I said coolly.

"He isn't gonna be Sam much longer—you said it yourself." Duane replied before he had turned to Dean.

"Nobody is shooting anyone!" Dean snapped.

"You were gonna shoot me!" Duane cried out, furious.

Dean advanced towards Duane, "You don't shut your pie-hole, I still might!" I held my hand out, stopping him before he looked to me with helpless and angry glint in his eyes.

"Dean, they're right." Sam said gently, "I'm infected; just give me the gun and I'll do it myself."

"Forget it," Dean said firmly.

"Dean, I'm not gonna become one of those things." He said.

"Sam, we've still got some time—" Dean protested.

"Who's bleeding?" Duane asked suddenly, cutting him off. Dean's brows knitted, growing bewildered and furious at the question. I felt a tremor of panic as everyone started to look around at each other. I lowered my eyes to the floor, seeing blood dripping from my right arm. That was when I felt all eyes on me and I started to shake.

"No…" Dean breathed out. Guiltily, I looked up at him, seeing tears well in his eyes, "Abigail, tell me you didn't…" Again, I looked away, unable to cope with the heart-shattering look I got from Dean and Sam. Hostile eyes fell on me.

"Show us your arm." Mark suddenly spat out.

I looked up at him, "I don't have to show you damn thing."

"You're putting us all in danger!" He shouted, "Show us your arm!"

"I don't think it quite matters anymore if I did or not." Mark took a step towards me, causing Dean to step in front of him.

"You lay a finger on her, I _swear_ I'll break every bone in your body." He growled out, then turned to me, "Abigail, show me your arm. Now." Slowly, I peeled my blood-soaked sleeve back until it came to my elbow, revealing the blood covered bite-mark after several blood-soaked towels had fallen to the floor with a splat. Dean closed his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek. If Sam being infected wasn't bad enough, I knew this had to have been a blow below the belt.

Then I turned my left hand over to reveal the equally soaked pseudo-bandage. I peeled it back easily to show the gash. Sam looked to me tearfully, "How-how many times did you get exposed?"

I worked my jaw oddly, "Too many." Dean's face skewed in to a pained look.

Dr. Lee's face looked deeply concerned, glancing to my injuries, "And how long ago-?"

"Three and a half hours." I replied, cutting her off. Dean shook his head, disbelievingly.

"We gotta put her down." Mark started, "_And_ him. We don't have anymore time—especially with _her_." He jerked his chin in my direction, "Look, I understand he's your brother and she's your fiancée, and I'm sorry, I am. But we gotta take care of this. Time's up for her." He pulled out his handgun. Dean moved protectively in front of Sam and me, staring Mark down with a furious expression.

"I'm gonna say this one time — you make a move on him or her, you'll be dead before you hit the ground. You understand me?" When Mark didn't respond, Dean's anger went through the roof, "Do I make myself clear?!"

"Then what are we supposed to do?!" Mark yelled back. Dean dug in his pockets, tossing Mark the keys to the Impala.

"Get the hell out of here, that's what." Dean told him, "Take my car. You've got the explosives, there's an arsenal in there." He looked to Duane and Dr. Lee, "You two go with him. You've got enough firepower to handle anything now."

Mark stared at him, "What about you?"

Dean didn't speak. He'd already made up his mind after he looked over to Sam and I.

I shook my head, "Dean, no." I started to get panicky, "No. Go with them. Please." Dean remained still, "Be with Megan…"

"This is your only chance!" Sam protested.

"You two aren't gonna get rid of me that easy." He said quietly.

"No, they're right." He said, "Come with us. Your daughter needs you now more than ever." Dean didn't move, "Okay, it's your funeral." Mark led Duane and Dr. Lee out of the door.

She paused, looking to each of us sadly, "I'm sorry. Thanks for everything, Marshals."

Dean flashed her a smile, "Oh, actually we're not really Marshals."

"Um. Oh." She said, then left. Dean shut the door behind her and locked it. Taking a moment to look out of the window as the three survivors left. Slowly turning to face Sam and I with a calm look, he was really in turmoil. Being the oldest, he wasn't about to let Sam see it.

"Wish we had a deck of cards, or a Foosball table or something." He muttered, looking around the room.

"Dean, don't do this." Sam said quietly, "Just get the hell out of here. Get to Megan. She matters the most right now."

He glanced to me and Sam, shaking his head, "No way, not without you two." Sam glanced over to me with tears in his eyes.

"Dean, Megan needs you." I told him, seeing his calm dexterity crack, "Our daughter needs you. Please, just go."

"For the last time, no." Dean snapped.

I slammed hand on the table, "This is the dumbest thing you've ever done!"

"Oh, I don't know about that. Remember that waitress in Tampa?" Dean shuddered at the memory from long ago.

"Dean, I'm sick. Abigail's sick…" He tried again.

"It's over for us." I added, "It doesn't have to be for you."

"No?" He asked.

"No, you can keep going." Sam said, crying.

"Who says I want to?" Dean asked, causing me and Sam to exchange a teary-eyed glance as he crossed to the other wall and pulls a handgun from his waistband before sitting on the file cabinet, "I'm tired, guys. I'm tired of this job, this life . . . this weight on my shoulders, man. I'm tired of it."

"So what, so you're just going to give up?" Sam asked hotly, "You're just gonna lay down and die?"

"Don't you care about Megan at all?" I asked softly, tears in my eyes, "So, you're just gonna...abandon her? For me and Sam? Dean, that's selfish."

Dean didn't say anything for a long while, and that scared me, "I…" he began to speak until we heard a noise outside. Another moment later, there was a knocking. Dean's fragile expression vanished and was replaced with a darker, more vicious one. Opening the door, Dr. Lee was there.

"You'd better come see this." She said.

All six of us were standing outside of the clinic. Everything else in sight was deathly silent, "There's no one. Not anywhere. They've all just . . . vanished. Even the man Abigail killed has vanished." Dr. Lee told Dean.

By the time morning had rolled around, Sam and I were sitting on an examination table watching as Dr. Lee peered through a microscope at our blood samples. My arm and hand had been stitched and bandaged after we had left the building to look out at the deserted town, and got a couple of shots for tetanus and rabies (of all things).

"Well, it's been five hours Sam, and eight hours for you Abigail…your blood's still clean." She said, "Both of yours, I don't understand it but I think you two have dodged a bullet."

Sam furrowed his brows, "But I was exposed—so was Abigail, by a lot."

"How could we not be infected?" I asked.

"I don't know." Dr. Lee said, "But you're just not, guys. I mean, you compare it with the Tanner samples . . ." She slid mine out from another microscope, then slid another one and peered in, "What the hell?"

"What?" Sam asked.

"Their blood." The doctor said, "There's no trace of the virus. No sulfur, nothing." Sam and I exchanged an uneasy look.

Situated underneath Dean's arm with our fingers entwined, we watched as Duane and Mark waved to us each before pulling away, "What about these two?"

"They're going to be fine." She reassured him, "No signs of infection." Dr. Lee then went back inside of the clinic, allowing Dean to let go of my hand and turn to us, expecting an explanation.

Sam rose his hands, "Hey man, don't look at me."

I shrugged, "I got no clue. I'm still tryin' to figure out how I got here."

"I swear, I'm gonna lose sleep over this one." Dean said rounding the front of the car, "I mean, why here, why now?" He asked, looking to us both, frustrated, "And where the hell did everybody go? It's like they just friggin' melted."

"Why was Abigail and I immune?" Sam asked.

He nodded, pointing at Sam, "Yeah. You know what? That's a good question." He said, "You know, I'm already starting to feel like this is the one that got away."

"I second that." I muttered, then felt Dean's arm wind around my waist. I looked up to see a concerned look in his eyes.

"How's the hand and arm?" He asked.

"I dunno…it's not hurtin' or anythin'." I said, looking down at the bandages. Blood was speckling through the white gauze, and I got curious. I peeled back the bandage on my hand to reveal nothing. A surge of adrenaline went through me, "What the-?" I jerked the one off my arm to reveal the same thing—nothing. Dean and Sam stared in shock.

"What the hell?" Sam breathed out.

"You-you…" Dean stuttered, "You know what? I give up trying to figure this damn place out." Sam pressed a hand to his chest, wincing. His injury was still there, "C'mon, I wanna get back to Sioux Falls where everything's normal."

The three of us piled in the car and took off, leaving the ghost town of Rivergrove, Oregon behind.

* * *

**A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long to get out, the weather has been awful where I live resulting in power outages and flooding (thankfully the flooding didn't effect me, just the power outages). I was gonna do a two parter, but I chose against it, cause really, how often do I write over 21, 452 words? Not very often...well, if you wanted to count the first four chapters. **

**I hope ya'll don't mind the smut. I was _really_ debating on it, but since there wasn't a whole lot in the series so far, I figured I'd let it slide.  
**

**And I _really, really, really_ hope ya'll don't think Abigail is being too much towards the end (like after the Duane incident on to the end). I was debating on that one too.**

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**I'd love to thank _Ladysunshine6_ for helping me out. I can't thank you enough.**

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**I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise.**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me or you can get a hold of me via Tumblr! I love receiving fan-mail for all three!**

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**Song for this chapter: _Down with the Sickness_ by Disturbed. I mean, it fitted it perfectly.**

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_**AfireLove1998- **_**Thank you! I really appreciate hearing/reading that! I'm glad you like Abigail!**

_**Infernoinside**_**\- Thanks! Oh, we'll see about that when the time comes! It's gonna be different (I hope) and I hope ya'll like different.**

**_Ladysunshine6_-Thank you darling! She's learned from the best! (;  
**

_**grapejuice101**_**\- Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! (:**

**_ebonywarrior85_\- Thank you! Don't we all?**

_**sarahmichellegellarfan1**_**\- Thank you! Like I said above, we'll see about that! :D**

**_angelicedg_\- Right?! I felt so bad for her while I was writing it out because I had it in my mind on what I was wanting to happen. The feels! Ohhh, you could say that. Not that I'm implying that she's got eyes watching her all the time.**

**_BlueEyedPisces-_ Awe, thank you! I really appreciate that! So glad you love them! (:**


	14. Hunted

**_Abigail's Point of View_**

**_Riverfront—Day_**

**_November 30th, 2006_**

Later that day, around three or so, Dean had went to a gas station where he picked up a case of beer. Having taken the opportunity to call Bobby and give him the down-low in a nutshell, Sam and I had both promised him a full explanation when we had reached Sioux Falls as we were still scratching our heads. We must've driven a little over fifteen or twenty minutes before Dean had picked out a rather secluded place on the riverfront. We got out, stretching our legs and arms and settled against a weathered fence, drinking a beer in silence.

"So." Sam started, breaking the silence, "Last night." Dean's eyes darted over to him, growing anxious, after he turned to look out on the river, "You want to tell me what the hell you were talking about?"

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"What do I mean? I mean you said you were tired of the job. And that it wasn't just because of Dad." Sam said.

Dean shook his head, taking another swallow of beer, "Forget it."

"Dean, no." I said pressing my lips into a slight frown, "We can't. No way. Especially you not wantin' to leave and be with Megan."

Dean let out a groan, "Come on Abs. I thought we were going to die, you can't hold that over me."

Sam and I shook our heads at him, "No, no, no, no. You can't pull that crap with us, man." Sam said.

"You're talkin'." I stated, seeing the look in his eyes. It wasn't going to just be about his refusal about being with our daughter.

Dean turned his body towards us, "And what if I don't?"

"Then I guess we'll just have to keep askin' until you do." I replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

Dean shrugged, searching for a way to begin his sentence, "I don't know, guys. I just think maybe we ought to . . . go to the Grand Canyon."

I furrowed my brows, looking over to Sam, who shared the same confused expression, "What?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, you know, all this drivin' back and forth across country, going back and forth to Sioux Falls—you know I've never been to the Grand Canyon?" I folded my arms at his sudden rambling. He was beating around the bush, "Or we could go to T.J. Or Hollywood, see if you can bang Lindsey Lohan." Dean gestured to Sam with a grin.

"Dean, you're not makin' any sense." I deadpanned, seeing his grin fade.

He looked between us, distressed about something, "I just think we should take a break from all this. Why do we gotta get stuck with all the responsibility, you know? Why can't we live life a little bit?"

"Well, for one, we have a child." I said, unable to grasp the concept.

Sam shook his head, "Why are you saying all this?" Sensing Dean's distress turn into dread, it clicked. I felt my gut form into knots as he shook his head, turning away. I walked over to him, taking his arm and wrapped it around my shoulders. He offered me a pained expression.

"No, no, no, no, Dean. You're my brother, and Abigail's boyfriend alright?" Sam said, "So whatever weight you're carrying, let us help a little bit."

Dean swallowed, "I can't. I promised."

Sam's brows knitted in confusion, "Who?"

I looked everywhere else but at Sam, "Dad."

This time, Sam's eyes flickered over to me, "What are you talking about?" We hesitated, "Guys..."

Dean casted his gaze down, "Right before Dad died, he told me something." He let his arm fall to his side as he took a breath and looked to Sam, "He told me something about you…and Abigail and Megan."

"What? Dean, what did he tell you?" He said, growing concerned.

"Before Dad died he-he told me something," Dean said, "— something about you guys."

"He said that he…" Dean struggled with his words for a moment, "he wanted me to watch out for you and the girls, to take care of the three of you."

Sam shrugged, "He's told you that a million times."

Dean shook his head, "No, this time was different." He told him, "He said that I had to save you, and protect Megan and Abigail."

I watched Sam frown in confusion, "From what?"

"He just said that I had to save you and keep the girls safe, that nothing else mattered; and that if I couldn't, I'd . . ." I closed my eyes when Dean's voice trailed off, unable to say it.

"You'd what, Dean?" Sam's voice hardened with impatience. Typical Sam. From beside me, Dean's hand found mine and squeezed it hard. I squeezed back, fighting off the whirlwind of emotions him and Sam both were battling, "Abigail, what's he talking about?"

I swallowed hard, opening my eyes, looking to Sam through matted eyelashes. _When did I start crying?_ I saw his impatience as well as feeling it. His mouth was drawn tight, brows knitted together. Then there was Dean. He was rendered speechless out of shame and being over-burdened with this secret. Tears were glittering in his eyes. He was scared; scared of what he thought would happen—Sam leaving. Judging from the same knotting feeling, I was scared for that too.

"Guys…" Sam said, curt.

"That I'd have to kill you." Dean blurted out, "He said that I might have to kill you, Sammy."

The look of confusion left Sam in a blink of an eye, but was replaced with shock, "Kill me?" He asked, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Why?" I shifted alongside Dean, feeling his shock turn into a dark pit of anger.

"I don't know." I said for Dean.

Sam shook his head, "I mean, he must have had some kind of reason for saying it, right? Did he know the demon's plans for me? Am I supposed to go Darkside or something? What else did he say, Dean? What did he say about Abigail and Megan?" Sam swallowed hard, pausing for a beat, and his face twisted into a look of fear, "Am I supposed to do something to them?" His eyes flickered to me, "Am I?"

"Dad said nothing else." Dean said getting the heated glare of Sam off me, "That's it, I swear."

Sam glanced to the both of us, "How could you not have told me this?"

"Because it was Dad," Dean told him, "and he begged me not to."

"Who cares?!" Sam exclaimed, angry, "Take some responsibility for yourself, Dean! You had no right to keep this from me and Abigail!" Dean's sudden silence and avoidance of his gaze served as a connection to something, causing Sam to focus on me with accusing eyes, "He told you?"

I nodded, "Yeah…" I said working my jaw at an odd angle.

Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes upwards then to another part of the river before he looked back to me, "How long have you known?"

"Three weeks," I answered, looking away as he shook his head, betrayed. Dean's hand left mine.

"You think I wanted this?" Dean finally snapped back, "Huh? I wish to God he'd never opened his mouth!" Dean's anger was beginning to boil over, "Then I wouldn't have to walk around with this screaming in my head all day!" Sam turned and took a few steps away from us, fuming while turned away, staring out at the river, shoving his hands down into his pockets.

"Since all of this is out in the open, we've gotta keep our heads clear, alright?" I said, receiving calculating gazes from both Sam and Dean when they turned to face me, "We've just got to figure out what's goin' on, then—what the hell all this means."

"We do?" Dean asked, causing Sam's eyes to fly to him, surprised. "Look, guys…I've been thinking about this, I think we should just lay low. You know? At least for a while. It'd be safer. And that way I can make sure —"

"What?" Sam then cut in with a humorless smile twisting his lips, "That I don't turn evil? That I don't turn into some kind of killer and kill my niece _and_ sister?"

I grimaced at how he worded his question. Due to the sharp pain in my chest, I looked to Dean, seeing the fragile expression he held when he looked to Sam. I now knew why I felt this feeling of self-loathing from him—the blame, the guilt—it all made sense now when it didn't three months ago. He was trying to keep it together for the both of us by turning to different subjects or places as means to get our minds off what was happening.

"I never said that." Dean said in a light tone as he tried to banish away the small voice in his head that was making him think otherwise.

"Jeez, if you're not careful you will have to waste me one day, Dean." Sam said, cynical.

"_Sam-_" I chastised, earning a dark look from him.

"I never said that!" Dean shouted out, "Damnit, Sam, this whole thing is spinning out of control. Alright? You and Abigail are immune to some weirdo demon virus, and I don't even know what the hell anymore!" The muscles in Sam's jaw bulged out when he clenched his teeth together, "I mean, look at Abigail—she was like a walking block of Swiss cheese! Now those places on her are gone!" I arched my brow upon seeing him cringe at his words, sending me an apologetic look. I raised my hands in a reassuring manner that meant no offense taken. It was true, given I only had a place on my hand and arm, "And you're pissed at me, I get it. That's fine, I deserve it. But we lay low until we figure out our next move, okay? Megan's due to get out of the hospital…_soon._"

"Forget it." Sam spoke with a sense of finality in his tone, causing a grip of fear twist my stomach into another series of knots.

"Sam, please, man." Dean begged as Sam turned his head to peer out at the water, "Hey, please." He grabbed Sam's arm, "Just give me and Abigail some time. Give us some time to think, okay? I'm begging you here, please. _Please_."

I couldn't think of a time Dean begged. It didn't happen often, but when it did, he was terrified. Sam remained silent and ever-so-pissed at the both of us as he give me and Dean a good onceover, then nodded at us, reluctant.

The way he looked at us gave me a bad feeling.

* * *

**_Sam's Point of View_**

**_Velvet Inn Motel—Night_**

The following night, I laid in my bed, unable to sleep. Of all the things Dean could've hidden from me…Abigail included—. I sat up in bed, leaning forward as I rested my head in my hands. I needed to find out more about what was going on—what Dad meant by Dean having to _save _me. I wasn't some kind of monster, and I _know_ I wouldn't do anything to hurt Abigail _or_ Megan. This was crazy. I was still struggling over the fact that things would go so bad that Dean would have to put me down like some kind of rabid animal or something.

I moved to the edge of my bed, looking over to Dean and Abigail's sleeping forms in the bed beside me, I stared at them for a long moment, thinking about how it was still odd…watching my pain in the ass big brother and Abigail together. I would've never thought that they would've been together…or even have a child. What made it seem odder was seeing Dean in a state of vulnerability with her. I mean, I've seen the way he gets when I'm involved, but with her? It was a completely different level of vulnerability. Now that I thought about it, my brother has always had a soft spot for her…when they weren't waging world war three on each other that is.

Thinking back on watching the two of them interact, that hostility from our childhood was still there from time to time, however it was clear how good of a team they were. Their movements were damn near synchronized—evidence from the military training for our fathers. If Abigail changed her position, Dean would compensate this change and recalibrate, and so it went vice versa.

Upon seeing Abigail lift her head up, I froze, thinking that she had woken up. It wasn't surprising really. She'd do it over a dozen times throughout the night, like she would always check on Dean or myself. This time, however, Abigail smacked her lips and shoved her head underneath her pillow, swinging her left leg over the edge of the bed while her right leg was entwined with Dean's. I couldn't help but smile at her. I couldn't begin to understand how she could sleep like that. My eyes flickered over to Dean, seeing his form lying prone with his head facing towards the nearest wall to him. Both of his arms were up under his pillow, holding onto a knife or pistol for 'protection', as he snored away.

With a sigh, I rose to my feet, moving around the motel room as I gathered my things and placed them within my bag. I needed to get out of here. I _had _to understand what Dad meant. Dean and Abigail had a lot on their plate with Megan getting ready to get out of the hospital. They needed to adjust to that big of a change. Leaving a note on the table, I offered my two sleeping siblings a final, sad smile before I shouldered my bag and slid outside.

The soft patter of rain coating the cars in the parking lot offered a soothing sound as I brushed past the Impala, and wandered four cars down before I settled on a black car. Looking back to the motel room, I wondered how long it would be when Abigail would wake up with some funny feeling to find out that I wasn't there. This had to happen. Opening the door, I got in and hotwired the car, soon pulling away from the motel.

* * *

**_Abigail's Point of View_**

**_Next Morning_**

_Sam was standing outside a dark house, holding a piece of motel stationary. I couldn't see what it was exactly Blue-Something. Walking alongside Sam, I glanced from the house to him growing cautious, "Sam, what're you doin'?" I glanced behind me, "Where's Dean?"_

_Sam wouldn't speak as he stooped in front of the house, picking the lock to the house. I had an increasing bad feeling about this entire situation._

_"Sam, what're you doin' here?" I asked, "This ain't safe, c'mon. Let's go back." The door swung open as he entered. I looked around once more, "Oh, this ain't good." Following behind him, I saw the shadow of a trip wire along the floor, "Sam! No, don't-!"_

_There was an explosion, and I heard him scream. I couldn't breathe_.

I shot up in bed, shaking. I looked to my side to see Dean sound asleep, then I looked over to my right. I had to make sure Sam was okay—only Sam wasn't in his bed. It was neatly made. Looking around the room with wide eyes, I started to notice that his things were missing. His bag included.

"Dean." I said, taking a hand and shaking his shoulder, "_Dean!_" I got up as he grunted out in protest.

"What? _What?_" He asked, sitting up, rubbing his eyes tiredly, "What's going on?"

I moved around the room, pulling on a gray Henley shirt, "Sam's not here."

"_What?"_ Dean spluttered out as he looked around, "Where'd he go?"

I threw my arms around, beginning to grow frantic, "I don't know, Dean. He's just not here! I had this-this nightmare…" Dean furrowed his brows.

"About Sam?" I nodded, spotting a note on a table. Upon picking it up, I showed it to Dean as he got out of bed, "Read it."

I read its contents aloud, "_Dean and Abigail, don't come looking for me._" I swallowed down a knot, "_I have to understand what's going on—what dad meant. I need to know if there are others out there." _I covered my mouth with a hand, squeezing my eyes shut. Dean took it from my hands, reading over to himself.

"_I can't stand the thought of hurting Abigail or Megan…Don't come looking for me. Love, Sam."_ Dean finished. His eyes were brimmed with tears, a surge of rage coursed through me like a torrential river as he crumpled the note up and slung it across the room, "Son of a bitch!" He tore through the room like a tornado, slinging empty beer bottles at the walls and flipping tables and chairs alike, shouting curses before he finally sank down onto our bed, breathing heavy. I joined him, pressing my side against his as his body started to tremble, "What was your nightmare about?"

I stared at him through tear-soaked lashes.

"_Abigail, _what was your nightmare about?" He asked again in a forceful tone, meeting my eyes with a frantic look in them.

* * *

**_Sam's Point of View_**

**_Roadhouse—Night_**

**_Nebraska_**

Having driven through the night, I made it to the Roadhouse. It was the same old hive activity with several cars and bikes parked around it, country music blasting inside. Pushing the doors open, heads turned as I entered. I paid them no mind, seeing Ellen behind the bar, who looked up at me with a knowing smile as she drying a glass.

"Sam."

"Hey, Ellen." I greeted her with a sheepish smile, "You don't seem that surprised to see me."

"Well, your brother and sister's been calling," She said, putting down the glass and picked up another glass as she wiped it clean, "They're worried sick, looking for you."

I nodded, "Yeah. Figured they might."

"What's going on between you guys?" She asked me, looking concerned. I glanced to the worn hardwood floors for a moment. I debated telling her what was going on, then I didn't. It was better off that way.

I looked around, searching for the feisty blonde, "So, um, how's Jo?"

Ellen nodded, seeing that I was changing the subject, "Well, I don't really know."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, I haven't seen her in weeks." She told me, stacking glasses on the bar, "She sends a postcard now and again."

I lowered myself onto a stool, "Well, what happened?"

She put her hand on her hip, looking at me, "After she worked that job with you three she decided she wanted to keep on hunting. I said "not under my roof", and she said "fine"."

I swallowed hard, "So I'm probably the last person you want to see right now."

Ellen let out a throaty chuckle, "Oh, don't get me wrong. I wish I could blame the hell out of you boys and Abigail—it'd be easier." She told me, "Truth is, it's not your fault, Sam. None of it is. I want you to know that I forgave your daddy and Abigail's daddy a long time ago for what happened to my Bill." She let out a soft sigh, "I just don't think he nor Steven ever forgave themselves."

"What did happen?" I asked her.

This time Ellen changed the subject, "Um, so, why did you come here, sweetie?"

I took a moment to collect my thoughts, glancing down to the wooden bar before I looked back up to her with a meaningful look, "I need help."

Sometime later, Ellen and I were talking to Ash, who was glancing around us, "What am I looking for, Sam?"

"Other people, other psychics—like me." I told him, "As many as possible, and I need a nationwide search."

Ellen looked to me with a frown, "But I thought there was no way to track them all down. Not all of them had nursery fires like you did."

"Well, no, but some had to." I said, then looked back to Ash, "Start there." Ash nodded, moving to his room in the back of the bar. I had settled in, drinking a beer or so while I waited. It was no time that Ash was back, a paper in tow.

"Done, and done." Ash said with a triumphant smirk.

I set my bottle of beer down looking up at Ash impressed, "That was fast."

"Well, apparently, that's my job. Make the monkey dance at the keyboard." He said as I looked over to Ellen unsure of what to say.

"Just tell us what you got, Ash." Ellen said, rolling her eyes at him.

"Four folks fit the profile nationwide. Born in '83, mother died in a nursery fire, the whole shebang." He said, "Sam Winchester from Lawrence, Kansas, Max Miller from Saginaw, Michigan, Andrew Gallagher from Guthrie, Oklahoma, and uh, another name. Scott Carey."

"You got an address?" I asked.

Ash tilted his head, "Kind of. The Arbor Hill Cemetery in Lafayette, Indiana. Plot four-eighty-six."

I let out a sigh, "So he's dead?" I clarified.

"Killed, about a month ago." He confirmed.

I found it hard to swallow down the news, "Killed how?" I asked.

"Stabbed. Parking lot. Fuzz don't have much, no suspects," Ash explained.

I could feel my heart sink. I nodded, working my jaw in an odd way. "Alright. Thank you." I began to walk away as Ash picked up my half-drunken beer, and downed the remaining contents.

"Where are you going?" Ellen called out.

"Indiana." I replied.

"Sam? I've gotta call Dean and Abigail, I've gotta let them know where you are." She said.

"Ellen. I'm trying to find answers—about who I am." I told her, "And my brother and sister means well, but they can't protect me from that. Please." Ellen looked me over. She then nodded, reluctant.

* * *

**_Carey House—Day_**

The drive to Indiana had taken me the remainder of the night into early morning before I settled down at the first motel I came to; the Blue Rose Motel. It provided me enough time to grab a couple hours of sleep, form a plan, and take a quick shower. It was definitely odd not hearing Abigail and Dean's playful banter or meeting Abigail's grin, but it was best. Shrugging on a jacket, I left the room and within ten minutes, I was sitting in the living room to the late Scott Carey's parents.

"So you say you went to high school with Scott?" Mr. Carey checked once again as we sat down.

"Uh, yes sir, I did." I played a sad smile, "I just heard about what happened, I'm so sorry."

"Scotty was a good boy." Mr. Carey began, casting his gaze down to his hands, "He changed a lot since you knew him."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"It started about a year ago with these headaches." He explained, "And then he got depressed, paranoid, nightmares." That last part caught my attention.

"Nightmares? Um, did he ever talk to you about his nightmares? What he saw, or-?" My sentence fell flat, searching for an answer.

Mr. Carey's eyes widened, shaking his head, "No, no." He replied, "He closed up with me. I tried to get him help, but nothing took. He'd just lock himself in his room for days."

"You think maybe I could see his room?" I asked.

Mr. Carey remained silent for a long beat. He then looked up, remembering I was still there, "Yeah." He said, "Yeah, right this way." We stood up as he led me through a hallway, and opened it, flipping on the light. I smiled in thanks as he left me to myself. The room itself contained a bare bed with a sleeping bed, some bookshelves covered in books and cassette tapes. I glanced over several Stephen King titles, taking a moment to allow a minute smile to tug at my lips as I slid out one.

_The Green Mile_. It was one of Abigail's favorites. I couldn't being to count on both hands and feet how many times she'd read it as well as cry like an overgrown child when she'd get done. Of course, ninety percent of the time Dean would make fun of her and a brawl would ensue. Chuckling to myself at the memory, I poked around further into the room, seeing a bedside table that was full of several pill bottles prescribed by a Dr. George Waxler.

I glanced behind me to ensure that Mr. Carey wasn't around then I pocketed a bottle. I then walked to Scott's closet and shoved aside clothes, revealing a collage of yellow eyes cut out of photos, drawing, or magazines, and glued to the wall. In the center was a cut out of a blonde woman and attached behind that photo was three pairs of bird wings. There was red paint covering her arms, face, and body—possibly symbolizing blood?

Unnerved by the images before me, I furrowed my brows, staring at them longer than usual. With the numerous amounts of eyes staring back at me, my eyes darted to each one; my heart started to hammer in my chest. I found what I wanted, signaling that I was on the right track.

_What did all of this mean?_

* * *

**_Blue Rose Motel—Night_**

Driving back, my head was filled with a million different thoughts as I tried in vain to process what was going on. Somehow, the drive itself felt like it took longer than usual. Parking at least two blocks from the motel, I headed out on foot, crossing the parking lot of the motel in a short time, and finally reached the door. The entire time, I could've sworn I was being followed. In fact, I knew I was. Seeing a figure from the corner of my eye, I turned and grabbed them, shoving their body against the wall.

I realized that this figure was a woman; straight, shoulder-length hair and big blue eyes, "Who are you?"

"Please!" She gasped out in a high, airy voice, "You're in danger." In an instant, my grip relaxed on her shoulders, and I took a step back. I had the door open to my motel room, showing her inside.

"Danger?" I asked as she walked in, "What kind of danger?"

It didn't take this woman long to go into panic mode, pacing back and forth, "Look, I know how all this sounds, but I am not insane and I am not on drugs. Okay?" When she spoke, I could easily hear a frantic tone in her voice, "I am normal, and this is way, way off the map for me."

"Alright, alright." I said, dropping the question for the moment, "just-just calm down, Okay? What's your name?"

"Ava." She replied, looking at me as she continued to pace.

"Ava?" I drew out the question, expecting a full name.

"Ava Wilson." She answered.

"Ava, I'm Sam Winchester, alright?" I watched as Ava nodded at me, "Now, you were telling me about these dreams of yours?"

Ava then blew out a drawn out breath, gathering her thoughts, "Uh, yeah, uh, okay, about a year ago I started having these, like, headaches, and just, nightmares, I guess." I nodded, encouraging her to continue, "And I really didn't think much of it until I had this one dream where I saw this guy get stabbed in a parking lot."

I frowned, drawing my brows together, "When was this?"

"Uh, about a month ago. But, anyway, a couple of days later, I found this." Ava pulled out a newspaper clipping, handing it over to me. I felt my heart skip a beat upon reading the headline: _Local Man Stabbed to Death in Parking Lot_. There was an image of Scott Carey next to it. "I saw this guy die, days before it happened. I don't know why, I don't know, it's just for some reason, my dreams are coming true. And last night I had another one."

I swallowed hard, glancing up from the clipping, "Okay."

"About you. I saw you die." She said.

"How did you find me?" I asked.

"Oh, uh, you had motel stationary, and I Googled the motel, and it was real, and so I just thought that I should warn you." Ava explained.

I shook my head, huffing, "I don't believe this."

"Oh, oh, of course you don't." Ava started, "You think I'm a total nutjob."

"Wait, no, no, no, I mean, you must be one of us." I said, upon her insinuation of my reaction.

Ava's face scrunched out of confusion, "Sorry, one of, one of who?"

"One of the Psychics-like me." I explained, "Look, Ava, I have visions too, alright? So we're connected."

Ava laughed, nodding at me, "Okay, so, you're nuts. That's great."

"Okay, okay, look," I began, "Did your mother happen to die in a house fire?"

Ava's face paled out of horror, "No, my mother lives in Palm Beach!"

"So you don't fit the pattern either." I murmured. Ava frowned at me, genuinely confused. So she was just like Andy and Weber.

* * *

**_Abigail's Point of View_**

**_Blacktop—Night_**

"For the last time, Dean, I said I didn't know!" I groaned out, rubbing my fingers against my temple. Dean and I had been searching half of the United States for any sign of Sam. This had been the millionth time Dean made me do a rundown of my vision. Our patience were long gone. We were worried out of our minds, and we had been on-call by Ashley after our short stop at the NICU.

Megan would be coming home within thirty-six hours. Given the situation, Dean and I couldn't stand ourselves at the moment.

"Well think harder!" Dean snapped, hitting his palm against the steering wheel, impatient, "There _has_ to be something worth remembering that could help us find Sam."

I twisted my head in his direction, pursing my lips, "How many times am I gonna repeat myself? _I. Don't. Know_. The closest thing I can _begin _to remember is some kind of motel stationary, and I already told you that!"

His glare met mine, "Did it have any kind of name on it, whatsoever?"

"Blue somethin'." I said in a pointed tone, throwing my hands up, "I didn't get a good—" Dean's phone began to ring, feeling a jolt of hopefulness run through me as he answered it and put it on speakerphone so I could listen, throwing me another glance.

"Hello?"

"_It's Ellen._" Ellen's voice came across the speaker. Our hearts sank. It wasn't Sam.

"Hey, have you heard from Sam?" I asked, hopeful that her call wasn't for small talk.

"_I have_," She replied, earning an exchange of attentive glances from the both of us, "_but he made me promise not to tell you two where he is_."

Dean's eyes narrowed out of frustration, "Come on, Ellen, _please_." Dean practically begged her, "Something bad could be going on here, and we've sworn we'd look after that kid."

"_Now Dean, they say you can't protect your loved ones forever_." Dean's jaw muscle twitched as he clenched his teeth. It wasn't just my irritation and anger boiling at this point.

"_Well, I say screw that. What else is family for_?" She asked, "_He's in Lafayette, Indiana._" We both let out a sigh of relief. The weight of the world lifted off our shoulders, halfway. A pretty good lot of it was still residing.

"Thanks, Ellen." I chirped before Dean snapped it shut and tossed into the empty space between us, stomping the gas.

"I swear, when I see 'im, I'm gonna punch him in the face." Dean grumbled over the roar of the engine, "I mean, how can he cut and run like that?" I found myself arching my brow at him, then met his irritated yet dumbfounded look, "What?"

"You really want me to answer that?" I asked.

He considered my question, then he let out a breath, "No." He muttered, "But—"

"Dean." I cut him off, seeing his eyes glance off the road, over to me, "I woulda left too if I had a bomb like that dropped on me."

"_What_?" He asked, not really looking at the road.

"It's obvious Sam is out lookin' for somethin'—a connection to these psychic kids." I explained, "There's still a lot we don't know on what's goin' on with these other people that are…_affected_ with these powers." I noticed Dean's face scrunch at my explanation, "Trust me when I say this Dean, it's not because of us."

"So he feels tied down and has to cut us off?" He scoffed out, "Sam's doing a _fine_ job of that."

"Like I said, I can't blame him for leavin'."

Dean's head bobbed side to side in small palpitations, "_Meh, my name's Sam and I have to leave my family behind._" He mocked in a high pitched voice, "_My name's Abigail and I don't blame him_."

I blinked at him a few times, twisting in my seat, "You really want to die tonight?" I deadpanned, "Cause it's comin' real close to that option."

"What? You and him have been taking up for each other since day one." Dean said, "It's a wonder you didn't take off and leave with him."

"But I didn't." I said, "If I'd been awake at the time, I would've..."

Dean fell silent, "Yeah, I know." There it was again, that abysmal feeling, "I shoulda told Sam earlier."

I looked out of the passenger window growing quiet. Nothing was said for a beat, "I don't think it would've mattered on the outcome."

"Why do you say that?" Dean asked me.

"Because he'd already made up his mind a long time ago." I answered.

* * *

**_Sam's Point of View_**

**_Blue Rose Motel—Night_**

Ava looked anxiously at me, "Why can't you just leave town? Please? Before you blow up?"

"No, I can't." I told her.

"Oh, god. Why not?" She asked, rolling her eyes.

I looked at her in the eyes, "Because there's something going on here, Ava. With you, with me…I mean, there are others like us out there. And we're all a part of something, and I've got to figure out what."

"Okay—you know what? Screw you, buddy. Okay?" My brows rose at her voice, "Because I'm a secretary from Peoria and I'm not part of anything! Okay? Do you see this?" Ava held up her hand, pointing to an engagement ring. "I am getting married in eight weeks. I am supposed to be at home addressing invitations, which I am way behind on, by the way. But instead, I drove out here to save your weirdo ass. But if you just want to stay here and die, fine. Me? I'm due back on Planet Earth."

"Don't you want to know why this is happening?" I asked her, "I mean, don't these visions scare the hell out of you? Because if you walk out that door right now you might never know the truth. I need your help."

That morning, after a prolonged debate, I had booked Ava an appointment at Scott Carey's former therapist. Over the past few hours with her, she had to be one of the most high-strung person I'd ever met. Granted, Abigail had her moments during a hunt, but this girl took the cake. Maybe this was how a normal person reacted. Personally, I wouldn't know. Having lived the life I've lived, I handled different situations a lot better than most—being crouched outside a window with a three story drop would be one of them.

Inching by the window of Waxler's office, Ava caught sight of me and exclaimed in surprise. I panicked and stepped back out of sight, startling some pigeons from their roost. When Ava's chatter started back, I inched across the window sill till I made it to Waxler's office, prying the window open and slid in. Coming to a set of file cabinets, I opened them in search of Scott Carey's files, and found it in time. Placing the file under my arm, I closed the cabinets with ease, then climbed back onto the ledge, making my escape.

Coming back to the motel, Ava was quiet. More or less stunned about something, which was a little concerning.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Am I okay?" Ava echoed.

I laughed and nodded, "Yeah."

"I just helped you steal some dead guy's confidential psych files." Ava said with all seriousness in her voice. Her façade failed after her lips started to twitch upwards in an excited grin, "I'm awesome!" I couldn't help but laugh at her excitement. Abigail expressed that kind of reaction when she beat Rainbow Road on Mario Kart for the first time. It was probably the best reaction considering all of the shouting and cussing at the television for a solid month, but it was stoked out when the power flashed, turning the game off.

I spent the next hour sifting through Scott Carey's file, reading the folder containing notes, prescriptions written out, and numerous other things within—including a voice recorder.

"_It started a little over a year ago—Migraines, at first. Then I found I could do . . . stuff._" Scott's voice spoke.

"_What do you mean, do stuff?_" Dr. Waxler asked.

"_I have this ability. When I touch something, I can electrocute it if I want_." Scott replied. It sent chills up my spine.

* * *

**_Abigail's Point of View_**

**_Blue Rose Motel—Day_**

It had been a tense night's ride to Lafayette, Indiana. With Dean reaching to speeds of over ninety miles an hour, it didn't seem like it took us long at all to get there. Upon pulling into the parking lot of the Blue Rose Motel, the motel that came first in the phone book and the stationary that I saw in the dream, we sat in the Impala for a beat before we'd gotten out. Walking alongside the motel, it had taken us no time to spot Sam through the window of his motel room.

Dean let out an audible sigh of relief, closing his eyes and tilting his head back, "Oh, thank god he's okay."

I watched as Sam moved aside, revealing a woman, causing me to arch my brow at the sight, "Oh, he's better than okay."

Dean saw this and started to chuckle, "Sam, you sly dog!" In our time of relief, mine dissipated when a crippling sense of animosity knotted my stomach up. I frowned, turning my head towards a building before the window to Sam's room shattered. Dean grabbed my arm, dragging me away from the area. We broke into a run, heading towards a building from across the street and up a fire escape towards the source of this animosity. It was familiar, one that was all too eager for me to stoop down into, like at Red Lodge.

Coming up to the rooftop, Dean and I spotted a man loading a rifle, then peered into the scope, unbeknownst to our presence. I realized who it was. Gordon Walker. The same son of a bitch who had killed his sister, as well as tried to kill me and Dean. Dean jumped him from behind, "Gordon!"

He kicked Gordon hard, then pinned him down on his back, hitting him over and over again in the face. He'd already had him by the collar, "You do that to my brother, I'll kill you!"

"Dean, wait-" Dean didn't give the man enough time to speak before he started in punching. I was looking around, searching for something to help Dean out, then before I realized Gordon reached for his rifle, it was already too late. I watched in horror when he slammed the butt of his rifle in Dean's face twice, knocking him out.

I had to get to Sam and warn him.

Standing up, panting and gushing blood from his lip, Gordon stood over Dean before raising the rifle to me, "Don't move, _Abby_."

I swallowed hard, _Shit._

* * *

**_Sam's Point of View_**

Ava had followed me up to the roof opposite of the motel room. I'd waited until the firing had stopped before I had decided to go out and investigate.

"Wait, I don't understand." Ava said shakily, "Shouldn't we be talking to the cops?"

I glanced at her from where I knelt, "Trust me, that wouldn't do us much good." I picked up a shell, inspecting it, "These are .223 caliber. Subsonic rounds." My brows knitted together, "The guy must have put a suppressor on the rifle."

"Dude, who are you?" Ava asked, gaping.

"Oh. I just, uh, I just watch a lot of TJ Hooker." I lied, before pulling out my cellphone.

"Who are you calling?"

"My brother and sister," I answered finding Dean's number, "I think we definitely need help." Pressing 'Send', the phone started to ring.

On the fourth ring, Dean answered, "_Hello?"_

"Dean!" I said, more than happy to hear his voice.

"_Sam, we've been looking for you_." He said rather calmly, which was odd considering the fact that I was expecting more of an ass-chewing.

"Yeah. Look, I'm in Indiana, uh Lafayette."

"_I know._" I blinked, surprised at his answer.

"You do?" I asked.

"_Yeah, Abs and I talked to Ellen."_ He said in a level tone, "_Just got here ourselves. It's a real funky town."_ My blood ran cold, causing me to shift at his words. Something about this conversation was off…_way_ off, "_You ditched us, Sammy."_ Upon hearing the irritation in his voice, I didn't hear Abigail speak at all. She would've chastised Dean or would've taken the phone away from him in order to reassure herself that I was okay. That didn't happen.

I swallowed hard, "Yeah, I'm sorry. Look, right now there's someone after me." I told him, trying to keep my voice level.

"_What? Who?_" Dean asked.

"I don't know, that's what we need to find out." I replied, "Where are you guys?"

"_We're staying at, uh, 5637 Monroe St_." Dean said, "_Why don't you meet us here_?"

"Yeah. Sure." Without waiting for an answer, I then hung the phone up before turning to Ava with a worried expression.

"What is it?" Ava asked upon seeing the look on my face.

"They're in trouble." I answered, scrawling the address Dean had given me on a piece of paper, "Dean gave me a codeword—someone's got a gun on him and my sister."

Ava scrunched her face, "_Codeword_?"

"Yeah, Funkytown." I said, "Well, they thought of it—it's kind of a . . . long story. I ..." My sentence fell flat, "Come on."

* * *

**_Abigail's Point of View_**

Gordon hung up from the phone call with Sam, pulling the phone away from Dean's ear, "Now, was that so hard?"

Dean looked up at him with an icy stare, "Bite me."

Gordon chuckled at his words, turning his back to Dean (facing me) as he opened a canvas bag on a table near where I was tied up, and started to pull out weapons.

Dean eyed them, "So Gordy. I know me, Abs, and Sam ain't exactly your favorite people, but don't you think this is a little extreme?"

Gordon turned to face Dean, "What, you two think this is revenge?" He asked in a matter of fact tone, gesturing to the both of us with a rather large knife.

"Well, we did leave you tied up in your own mess for three days." I pointed out, hearing Dean let out a lighthearted laugh.

"Which was awesome." Gordon threw him a dark look, making him cough, "Sorry, I shouldn't laugh."

"Yeah." He said, thoughtful, "I was definitely planning on whuppin' your ass for that." Gordon paused, turning his head to me. I swallowed hard, shifting in my seat under his gaze. I didn't like the look he held. That animosity hadn't left, and aside from that, I sensed he had other plans.

Dean frowned at his words, casting an anxious glance over to me, "Mm-hmm." He hummed out, drawing Gordon's attention back to him.

"But that's not what this is—this isn't personal." He said turning to Dean, "I'm not a killer, Dean. I'm a hunter." I watched warily as he fingered around at the knife, not bothering putting it back in its sheath, "Your brother and girlfriend's fair game."

The color drained from our faces. The cocky look that was on Dean's face was wiped clean and replaced with horror. His eyes fell on me, scared. Gordon walked over to where I was at, placing the tip of the blade where my scar begun on my chest, "Besides," He added with a grin, "You, Abby, have a mighty nice scar I'd like to add to." He placed the tip of the blade above my left collarbone, pressing it down until I jumped from the bite of the blade.

"Gordy, Gordon…c'mon, man." Dean breathed out with a nervous laugh. This was a second time he'd made an attempt to get the heat off of me. Gordon paid him no mind, instead, he drug the blade across my chest, and I let out pained hiss, clenching my teeth. Dean start to struggle against his bonds, "Gordon, stop! Alright? Just, stop!" Dean exclaimed, "We can talk about this!"

Gordon smirked, bemused by Dean's distress, "Oh, I don't think so, Dean." Gordon said, pulling the blade away from me, allowing me to sag in my chair, breathing heavily out of pain. He moved around until he was behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders to look at him, "Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth." I clenched my teeth feeling the blade move up my arm, making me focus on Dean's distressed look with a scrunched face. His eyes flickered from me to Gordon, going from distress to fury in a split second.

"But since you want to talk…" Gordon then walked away from me, moving over to a pillar where he set the knife down on the way and gathered up a rifle, "You see, I was doing an exorcism down in Louisiana; teenage girl, seemed routine, some low-level demon, but between all the jabbering and the head-spinning, the damn thing muttered something about a coming war." Dean and I were silent, mostly from the rage and pain that was building up between us both, "And I don't think it meant to, it just kind of slipped out. But it was too late. Piqued my interest. And you can really make a demon talk, you got the right tools."

"And what happened to the girl it was possessin'?" I asked, wincing in pain.

Gordon smirked, "She didn't make it."

Dean shook his head, "Well, you're a son of a bitch." Gordon stared at him before moving swiftly to Dean and slapped him. Dean let out a pained grunt.

"That's my momma you're talking about." Gordon said. Despite everything, Dean had to smile at him, "Anyway." He said, getting back on track, "This demon tells me there are soldiers to fight in this coming war. Humans, fighting on hell's side and one that'll stop it all." He chuckled out of amusement, "You believe that? I mean, they're psychics, so they're not exactly pure humans, but still. What kind of worthless scumbag have you got to be to turn against your own race?" Dean stared at him, not saying a word, "But you know the biggest kick in the ass?" Gordon asked him, "This demon said I knew two of them. Our very own Sammy Winchester and Abby Colt." Dean started to chuckle at him.

"Oh, this is ... this is a whole new level of moronic, even for you." He told him, trying mask how scared he truly was. All anyone had to do was look into his eyes.

"Yeah? Come on, Dean.." Gordon informed Dean, he motioned his head towards me, "I _know_—about Sam's visions along with Abby's little supernatural perception and the other little goodies she has—I know everything." Dean's eyes went from him to me.

"Really? Because a demon told you?" I remarked, Dean smirked.

"Yeah, and it wasn't lying." He added. We both shared a chuckle to throw off Gordon. He didn't seem a bit phased.

"Here's a little curveball for the both of you. That nifty little NICU in Sioux Falls, South Dakota?" This had our attention. Gordon's lips stretched over his teeth in a grin, "Room 514? Dean, you were right, she's beautiful. You did good. I hear she's got a coupla hours left before she gets to come home." Mine and Dean's blood ran cold upon hearing that he's seen our daughter. I watched as his grin went back to a serious expression…one that had a deadly intent, "I'm not some reckless yahoo, okay? I did my homework. Made damn sure it was true. Look, you've got your Roadhouse connections, I got mine. It's how I found Sammy in the first place."

Gordon crossed to the corner and sat down, "About a month ago I found another one of these freaks here in town. He could deep-fry a person just by touching them."

Dean's jaw worked in an odd angle, "Yeah, did he kill anyone?"

"Well, besides Mr. Tinkles the cat? No. But he was working up to it." Gordon replied, nonchalant, "They're all gonna be killers, Dean. We've got to take them all out. And that means Sammy and little Abby too." He cocked back the hammer on the rifle.

"You think Sam's stupid enough to walk through that front door?" I said.

"No, I don't. Especially since I'm sure Dean found a way to warn him. Ha. You really think I'm that stupid?" Dean raised his eyebrows meaningfully while Gordon stood and started to pace, "No. Sammy's going to scope the place first, see me covering the front door. So he's going to take the back. And when he does he'll hit the tripwire. Then –" Gordon then took a grenade from his bag, "Boom."

"Sam's not gonna fall for a friggin' tripwire." I scoffed out.

Gordon turned to me, "Maybe you're right. That's why I'll have a second one." He gave us both a good onceover, "Hey, look. I'm sorry. I wish I didn't have to do this, I really do. But for what it's worth, it'll be quick. For Abby and Sammy." Gordon motioned to the both of us, "You and her say your goodbyes." Without another word, Gordon left us in the room to set up tripwires.

My right leg started to bob up and down as tears threatened to burst forth, I tried to move my hands due to the tightness of the ropes around them. They were going numb. "That son of a bitch." I muttered, shaking my head. I couldn't look at Dean, "He's been to Megan's room…"

"Abigail…look at me. Everything's gonna be okay." Dean reassured, "Nothing's gonna happen to you, or Sam, or Megan. Bobby'll be there with her." I knew he was terrified and reassuring himself, not just me, "We'll think of something. Just keep a level head, alright? We're gonna get out of here and get Sam."

I looked at him, seeing tears brim his eyes, and nodded. Upon hearing Gordon's heavy footsteps, we both blinked to rid ourselves of our emotions before he returned, grabbing a knife off from the table nearby. Dean's eyes fell on the knife, "Come on, man. I know Sam and Abigail, okay? Better than anyone. Sam's got more of a conscience than I do. I mean, the guy feels guilty surfin' the Internet for porn. Abigail practically wets herself when she sees a spider!" I glared at him, seeing him shrug with a meaningful look.

Gordon looked to us each with consideration, "Maybe you're both right. But one day he's going to be a monster," He said to Dean before looking at me, "and so are you, Abigail."

"_How? Huh_?" Dean demanded, "How's a guy like Sam become a monster? How is Abigail supposed to become a monster? She and I have a kid for cryin' out loud!"

Gordon turned his head to Dean, shrugging, "Beats me. But they will."

He shook his head in defiance, "No, you don't know that!" His voice raised to a yell.

"I'm surprised at you, Dean. Getting all emotional. I'd heard you were more of a professional than this." He taunted, "Look, let's say you were cruising around in that car of yours and, uh, you had little Hitler riding shotgun and little Elizabeth Bathory sitting in the backseat, right? Back when they were just some goofy, crappy kids, but you knew what they were going to turn into someday. You'd take them out, no questions asked, am I right?"

Dean shook his head, "That's not Sam. _Or_ Abigail." Dean said with no trace of doubt in his voice. There was nothing Gordon could've said or done that could've justified a thing he said, and there wasn't a thing that could've stopped Dean from killing him if he were to get loose at this point. Was I really going to become something to the extent of Elizabeth Bathory? And Sam, like Hitler?

"Yes it is. You just can't see it yet. Dean, it's their destiny." Gordon said, "Look, I'm sympathetic. He's your brother, she's the mother of your child, and you love 'em both dearly, I get it, man. I do. This has got to hurt like hell for you." He reached into his bag and pulls out a scarf, standing, "But here's the thing." He gagged Dean with the scarf, ignoring Dean's grunts of protest before he'd turned looking at me from behind him, taking out a smaller knife, "It would've wrecked him, but your dad? If it really came right down to it, he would have had the stones to do the right thing here. But you're telling me you're not the man he is?"

Dean glared at Gordon furiously, then I swallowed hard. I sensed Sam outside, and I looked over my shoulder towards the front door. Gordon moved around Dean, making his way towards me and pressed the knife against my throat. Dean grunted, his face scrunched out of anger as Gordon leaned in close enough to speak in my ear, "Don't you make a sound, or I'll make this quick and it'll be messy."

I couldn't hardly breathe. My heart hammered against my chest as the sounds of the door clicked. Dean's eyes widened, looking around wildly for Sam. Gordon remained behind me, pressing the blade against my throat, hard, "Ya hear him?" He asked. Tears welled in my eyes as we heard his footsteps echo, "Here he comes." He said in a sing song voice.

I squeezed my eyes shut, helpless, as the first grenade exploded and I let out a small sound. A whimper, for that was all I could do without Gordon dragging a knife across my throat. Dean's furious, muffled screams filled the room as Gordon shifted behind me, "Hold on. Not yet, not yet. Just wait and see." He urged in a gleeful tone. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to focus on Sam. He wasn't dead. Scared, but alive.

As the second grenade went off, I jumped in my seat, feeling the blade cut my neck. Dean struggled against his bonds violently, choke-sobbing through the gag at the thought of Sam being killed. Tears were in my eyes at the sight, but the knife was taken away from my throat as Gordon came back around, looking at Dean.

"Sorry, Dean." He said before looking at the knife in his hand, "Abby, be so kind as to hold onto this for me." Before I could register what he meant, Gordon slammed the knife into my thigh, eliciting a series of pained yelps and groans from me. As Gordon went out of sight, I rocked back and forth, desperately trying to remain calm and not focus on Dean's furious and muffled curses. Everything was quiet before I mustered up the strength to look at Dean through tear soaked lashes, meeting his frantic expression. I shook my head slowly, "He's not dead." I reassured him in a shaky tone. Dean's eyes widened.

"Put it down now!" Sam's voice shouted out from somewhere in the cabin. Dean turned at the sound of his voice, then grunted out in relief. I struggled against the ropes on my wrists again, trying to get out of these things. Blood was covering my wrists, as well as my leg. When they wouldn't give, I basically gave up. I couldn't move anymore without almost passing out from the pain of the knife embedded in my leg.

"You wouldn't shoot me, would you, Sammy? Because your brother and sister? They think you're some kind of saint." I heard Gordon tell Sam.

"Yeah? Well, I wouldn't be so sure." I heard Sam say.

Gordon chuckled, "See, that's what I said." Then there was a sound of a gun being knocked out of someone's hands, then a loud thump.

"Sam?!" I called out. The sounds of a scuffle threw Dean into a struggling mess, groaning out as he tried to get loose. Gordon had us tied down good, that much was clear.

"You're no better than the filthy things you hunt." Gordon said, then was followed by a loud thump. "Do it. Do it!" Show your siblings the killer you really are, Sammy."

Dean stilled, panting out of exhaustion until a series of thumps sounded, "It's Sam." We heard him say.

"Sam!" I called out, "Sammy! In here!" Exhausted, Sam came into the room where we were at. Dean looked up at his brother emotionally. Sam clapped him on the shoulder as he kneeled beside him, untying the room. As soon as he was free, Dean pulled off his own gag frantically, stood, and pulled Sam up to stand, cataloguing his injuries as Sam nodded at him.

"Yeah, the brotherly reunion's nice an' all, but I'm still here. Tied up." I reminded, seeing Dean and Sam turn to look at me. Dean's relieved expression left as he grabbed a knife and cut the ropes loose. Not moving me, he looked down at the knife in my leg with a murderous expression.

"I'm gonna kill him." He muttered, wheeling around to head to the back room, "That son of a . . ."

"Dean. No." Sam stopped him, "Abigail's seriously hurt. We need to get out of here."

"I let him live once. I'm not making the same mistake twice." Dean snapped.

"Trust me. Gordon's taken care of. Come on." Sam urged, "Abs, we gotta keep the knife in."

I nodded, "It's fine." I gritted out as he and Dean helped me towards the front door where we walked (and limped) out of the cabin, and away from it. We were at least a football fields away before Gordon emerged, a gun in each hand, and begun firing. We ducked and ran for cover.

"Come on!" Dean yelled out, wrapping an arm around my waist tightly as he hauled me into the ditch with him.

"You call this taken care of?" I asked as we settled into a ditch by the side of the road and huddled, watching him approach.

"What the hell are we doing?" Dean grunted out.

Sam glared at us, "Just trust me on this, alright?" The gunshots were replaced with screeching tires and wailing sirens as cops emerged from said cars, weapons ready.

"Drop your weapons! Get down on your knees!" One shouted.

"Do it, now!" Another yelled out. The three of us grinned at each other as Gordon dropped to his knees, glaring in our direction, "Put your hands on your head. Easy now." We watched gleefully as a cop cuffed Gordon and patted him down before being led to a squad car. Another cop nearby opened the back of Gordon's red car and pulled out the weapon's rack.

"Anonymous tip." Sam said with a grin.

Dean laughed, clapping a hand on his shoulder, "You're a fine upstanding citizen, Sam."

* * *

At the car, I sat with my injured leg out while Dean was crouched in front of it with a first aid kit open. He'd taken a pair of surgical scissors cutting off my pant leg to expose the knife. By now, my leg was covered in blood. Sam was standing nearby, watching with knitted brows as Dean cleaned around it with a bottle of iodine.

He looked up at me with an apologetic look, "This is gonna hurt."

I held a piece of wood in my hands, "It's fine." I muttered, lying in the front seat and put the piece of wood in my mouth, clenching down.

"On the count of three," I hear him say. I knew he was lying, "One…" My breathing quickened with anticipation, "Two…" The knife stuck for a split second before a sickening suction sound filled my ears and I let out something that was close to a pained yelp and groan. Sam place a firm grip on my leg while I heard Dean shuffle things around, searching for something to stitch my leg with. It felt like an hour went by at an agonizingly slow pace, however when Dean was finished stitching, I let out a shaky, yet relieved, sigh.

I laid in the front seat for a good minute trying to collect the strength to sit up. I held up a hand, meeting Sam's as he pulled me up. Sam and Dean both decided to give me a few minutes to level out, leaving Dean and I up front while Sam was outside the car, looking at his own phone. This gave us the opportunity to talk to Ellen on the phone about Gordon finding out about Sam and I.

"_Gordon Walker was hunting Sam and you_?" She said in a low voice, shocked.

"Yeah, he almost killed us because somebody over there can't keep their friggin' mouth shut." Dean quipped.

"_And you honestly think that it was me? Or Ash? Or Jo? No way_." Ellen hissed.

"Well, who else knows about Sam and Abigail, huh?" We turned to look at Sam in the car, "I mean, you must have been talking to somebody."

"_Hey, you can say a lot of things about us_, _Dean_._ But we are not disloyal. And we're not stupid. We haven't breathed a word of this."_ She said.

"Gordon said he had Roadhouse connections, Ellen." I told her in a gentle tone.

"_And this roadhouse is full of other hunters. They're all smart. They're good trackers. Each of them with their own patterns and connections. Look, hell, I could name twelve of them right now that are capable of putting this together._" Ellen explained then let out an agitated sigh, "_I am sorry about what happened, Dean. But I can't control these people. Or what they choose to believe_." Dean threw me a look, and I shrugged. It was plausible. Ellen wasn't lying. I couldn't sense an ounce of denial. "_Abigail, Ash is on his way to get you_."

"What for?" I asked, "What's goin' on?"

"_I got a message from Bobby Singer. Says it's urgent."_ She replied, and my blood went cold. Megan.

"What's going on with our daughter?" Dean said, concerned.

"_Bobby wouldn't say. Said for me to get ahold of you and Abigail._" She said.

"We'll meet him somewhere." I told her as Sam got into the car.

* * *

**_Dean's Point of View_**

**_Road—Night_**

Ash had met us at a restaurant, taking Abigail no time to hobble out of the car and into his. Gordon stepping foot in her room had definitely put a bad taste in our mouths, and I didn't blame Abigail for wanting to go back to her, despite the condition she was in. Having to explain to Sam what had happened only became a game of twenty questions. After about an hour, Sam had called this Ava girl over a dozen times.

"Hey, Ava, it's Sam. Again." Sam said, "Um, call me when you get this, just want to make sure you got home okay. All right. Bye."

"Everything alright?" I asked.

"Yeah, I hope so." He replied.

"Well, Gordon should be reaching for the soap for the next few years at least." I joked.

"Yeah. If they pin Scott Carey's murder on him. And if he doesn't bust out." There was a pause between us. I rolled my eyes at him. Always the party pooper.

"Dude, you ever take off like that again . . ." I said, looking over at him.

"What?" He raised a brow at me, "You'll kill me?" He looked at me, the irony of such a statement clear on his face.

"That is so not funny." I muttered, "Be glad Abs isn't here."

Sam started to laugh, "Alright. Alright. So where to next, then?"

I grinned, "One word: Amsterdam."

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, shaking his head.

"Come on, man, I hear the coffee shops don't even serve coffee. Abigail would be on my side for once!"

"I'm not just gonna ditch the job." Sam said.

"Screw the job. Screw it, man, I'm sick of the job anyway. I mean, we don't get paid, we don't get thanked. The only thing we get's bad luck."

"Well, come on, dude, you're a hunter. I mean, it's what you were meant to do."

"Ah, I wasn't meant to do anything. I don't believe in that destiny crap." I muttered.

"You're a dad, Dean. That's gotta mean something." I tilted my head, giving Sam a meaningful look, "And you mean you don't believe in _my_ destiny. Or Abigail's." Sam pointed out.

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, whatever."

"Look, Dean, I've tried running before. I mean, I ran all the way to California and look what happened." Sam told me, "You and Abigail can't run from this. And you both can't protect me. You both have a baby! A _baby_!"

I looked at him for a long moment, "We can try.

"Thanks for that." He said.

I just nodded my head, remaining silent.

"Look, Dean, I'm gonna keep hunting. I mean, whatever is coming, I'm taking it head-on, so if you and Abigail really want to watch my back, then I guess you're both gonna have to stick around."

"Bitch." I smirked.

Sam grinned, "Jerk." We both grinned. After a beat, Sam then frowned and picked up his phone again.

"You calling that Ava girl again?" I asked with a grin, "You sweet on her or something?"

"She's engaged, Dean." He said, rolling his eyes.

"So? What's the point in saving the world if you can't get a little nookie once in a while, huh?"

"Coming from father of the year here," Sam muttered as he hung up, scowling at the phone.

"What?" I asked.

"Just a feeling. How far is it to Peoria?" Sam asked turning towards me.

* * *

Pulling up in front of Ava's house, we got out then entered the house.

"Hello? Is anybody home?" Sam called out as we swept through the silent house with our flashlights. I didn't like the feeling of this. Coming to the bedroom, we stopped, finding Ava's fiancé laying face-up on the bed; his shirt and the sheets soaked in blood.

Unlucky bastard. I thought grimly.

"Oh my god." Sam whispered as I ran a finger along the windowsill, staring at the powdery substance collected there.

"Hey." Sam turned as I held up a finger, "Sulfur. Demon's been here."

Sam then spotted something on the floor and kneeled, picking it up. It was an engagement ring, "Ava."

Back in the car, I was more than ready to find the next motel and sleep for days. Sam was silent, fuming over Ava's disappearance.

"What do you think happened?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"I don't know, but whatever happened…" Sam's voice trailed off, "I shouldn't have left her."

"Sam, you did what you could." I told him, "You win some, you lose some." Sam scoffed.

"You're serious." He deadpanned.

"What?" I asked, "I'm trying here."

Sam rolled his eyes at me, jaw set, "Just…don't."

Defeated, I raised my hands at him, "Alright, alright." We were silent for the remainder of the trip until I finally decided after four hours to stop at the first motel we came to. I was so tired I couldn't even think straight. By the time I had taken a shower and drank a beer or two, I was wide awake. I must've watched five episodes of South Park. I sighed, looking over to Sam who had been asleep for a while now. This Ava chick's disappearance and her fiancé's murder hit him hard, and I didn't really blame him. Something funky was going on.

Then my thoughts wandered to Abigail. She hadn't called in a while. Propping myself up on my elbows, I reached over and picked up my cellphone, flipping it open. I stared at the background screen for a long time. It was of me, Abigail, and Megan in the room. Going through numerous images saved on my phone, I finally decided to call her. Pressing 'send', I sat up in the bed, waiting as the phone rang then went to her voicemail.

_This is Abigail's _other_, other phone. You know what to do_.

I groaned inwardly, "Hey, it's me." I began, "How's Megan? Is she-is she alright? You haven't called in a few hours…figured I'd check up on you and her." I rubbed my eyes roughly, "We're, uh, staying at the Days Inn in West Des Moines. Room 102, if you're on your way back. I love you girls. I'll talk to you after we head back out on the road." I hung up, placing the phone back onto the side table, and laid my head down, listening to Kenny's muffled dialogue before I finally dozed off.

I woke with a start to the sound of a baby crying. I laid in bed for a moment, unsure of what I was hearing. Was that the television or am I hearing things? I decided that I was imagining things. Beginning to doze back off, it didn't take me long to register that I wasn't imagining things after I heard the same sound of a baby crying again, before a woman's voice started to sing a familiar song.

_"Hey Jude, don't be afraid. Sing a sad song to make it better. Remember to let her into your heart. Then you can start to make it better…"_

I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms, hearing the baby's warbling cry once again then a weight at the foot of my bed. Startled, I sat up in the bed with my hand on a blade, where I noticed someone sitting at the edge of the bed, cradling a bundle in their arms.

"Abs?" I asked as the figure turned. It was her.

Tears in her eyes, Abigail smiled, "Hey you."

My breath caught in my throat, eyes flickering to the bundle, "What do you have?"

She grinned, "Guess, papa-bear." I had trouble thinking for a moment before it clicked, and a baby cried out again.

"Megan?" I asked in disbelief, watching her stand up slowly. I moved over in the bed allowing her to sit down beside me, close. "She's out?" I asked her again, unable to believe what was going on.

"Yeah," She replied, her voice thick with emotion, "She's out." I leaned over behind her to turn on the lamp, making for sure that this was for real. I could've sworn this was a dream again. In the light, Abigail and Megan didn't disappear. I stared at Abigail then to our daughter in silence. I couldn't speak. I couldn't even think straight.

Abigail grinned as tears slid down her face, "We're a family now." She managed to say in a quiet tone.

I looked up at her for a beat, then back to Megan, "Yeah." I swallowed hard, blinking away tears as I pressed my forehead against hers, "Yeah, we are." My heart hammered in my chest. I couldn't believe this was finally happening. My daughter was finally here with me, under my watch—_my protection._ I kissed Abigail on the lips, "I love you, Abigail."

"I love you too." She managed to get out, "You wanna hold her?"

"Of course." I replied, exchanging arms carefully as I held my daughter close to me. I swallowed hard, fighting off another round of tears. Being able to hold Megan freely and without cords and IVs attached was an overwhelming feeling all on its own, it was like a burden being lifted off of my chest. I took the opportunity to close my eyes, keeping her close against me, and pressed my lips against her forehead, shocking myself when my shoulders started to shake. Am I really crying?

That was when Abigail leaned into me, kissing me on the cheek before she placed her hand over her mouth. She was crying too. Taking a deep breath, I look down at Megan only to see her peer up at me, "Hey there kiddo." I managed to say to her, "You're safe now. I'm not gonna let anything or anyone hurt you." I watched as her lips turned into a wide, toothless grin, eliciting a chuckle from me.

"Dean?" came Sam's tired voice.

I jumped slightly from the suddenness, "Y-," I cleared my voice, "Yeah." I couldn't let him hear that I had been crying. He'd never let it down.

"What's going on?" He sat up in bed, scrunching his face at the lamp, before noticing Abigail sitting in the bed beside me, "Abigail? When'd you-?" His eyes landed on me holding Megan, before it really clicked with him, "What-? Is that-?" He looked between us, stunned, "Megan's out?"

I chuckled, "You bet your sweet ass she is, Francis." I said, holding her against me, "Megan Winchester is officially a free woman. Isn't that right?" I said to her, seeing a black and yellow shirt underneath the blanket. Curious, I pushed it away to see the batman onesie with a small tutu around her. I grinned, "You actually did that?"

Abigail grinned back at me, "Of course I did, why wouldn't I?"

By this time, Sam had scrambled to get out of his bed and joined us on mine, gawking at Megan, "Let me hold her." He said. His expression was that of a kid in a candy store.

I raised a brow at my brother, "Uh, no. I just got her."

"Dude, you'll have her all the time, let me hold her." Sam protested.

I looked over to Abigail, confident that she wouldn't let Sam get Megan right away, "Abs, tell him."

"Hand her over, Dean Mathew." She said.

I gaped. "What? Are you serious?" I asked in an incredulous tone, "I just got my kid!"

"You'll get her back, don't worry." She amended nodding her head to Sam, "Let Sam hold her."

I rolled my eyes with a groan of protest, "Don't drop her." I said as Sam gathered her in his arms.

"Dude, I'm not gonna drop my niece." Sam said before turning his attention to Megan, "Hey, there pretty girl." Abigail and I watched as Sam interacted with her with a grin, "As long as I'm alive, I'm not gonna let anything ever happen to you; neither is your mom or dad. You're always gonna have us."

* * *

**A/N: Oh my word, I'm so sorry about how late this is. My depression has been getting the best of me lately taking an impact on my homework and housework, as well as writing this. I really intended this chapter to be out in no time, but like I said, things happened. I hope this isn't too jumpy with POVs, I noticed it went back and forth quite a bit, so if there's an issue with that, let me know! **

**On a side note, I did get one of Jared Padelecki's Always Keep Fighting shirts in the mail Saturday, so that definitely gave me a boost! Did anyone out there get one too?**

**So, what'd ya'll think about this chapter? Who was excited about the ending?! I know I was, because Dean and Abigail has had a long journey and they definitely deserved a break (Sam too)!**

* * *

**I'd really love to thank _Ladysunshine6 _for helping me through this time. She's basically been my teammate since the middle of _Bad Company_ as well as a great listener. I owe a lot to her. **

* * *

**I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise.**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me or you can get a hold of me via Tumblr! I love receiving fan-mail for all three!**

* * *

**Song for this chapter: I couldn't think of one where I've taken this long of a break from it, so if anyone knows a great song that would fit this chapter, let me know and I'll definitely put it in there! (:**

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_**grapejuice101-**_ **Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as you liked the episode! I apologize for taking so long getting this out!**

**angelicedg- Thank you, that really means a lot. I hardly ever write anything that long so I figured I could keep it long for once. haha. I also figured since Bobby is actually a big ole softy, I'd highlight that with Megan! Glad you enjoyed the surprise smut! (;**

**Ladysunshine6- Thank you darling! I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter, and I'm glad you enjoyed this one as well! (:**

**sarahmichellegellarfan1- Thank you! I really enjoyed writing _Croatoan_, there was a lot that I debated on and of course was confused with. I just hope Abigail isn't being overbearing as a character.**

**Guest- Thank you! I'm honestly so happy to hear this! I have some plans for Sammy, but unfortunately, things for him will be later on (poohockey). I really hope you enjoyed _Hunted_, I spent a lot of time and consideration on how to write this out. I worry about a lot of things, so hopefully you and everyone else enjoyed it! Thank you again for your kind words! (:**

**ebonywarrior85- Thank you darling! I appreciate it! Hope you liked this chapter! (:**


	15. Downtime At Bobby's

_Don't fret precious I'm here, step away from the window _  
_Go back to sleep_  
_Safe from pain, and truth, and choice, and other poison devils,_

_See, they don't give a fuck about you, like I do. _

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**December 3rd, 2006**_

_**Singer Auto Salvage—Day**_

_"Run! Run! Run! Go, go, go!"_

_At ages ten, nine, and six, the three of us scrambled across a homemade obstacle course my dad and John Winchester had built on area of our farm. "Your brother's life depends on it, Dean!" John would shout out, followed by my dad's yell. "Move it, Abigail! Your life might depend on this one day!"_

_There would be tears our eyes at the questions, insults, and shouts from our fathers, watching on as John would drill little Sam after failing an attempt at the obstacle course. Gun fire would be heard at one end of the course; the objective was to shoot a .45 at a target behind us. While on the other side of the course, the objective was to tuck our heads, land, roll, and come up, shooting at another target._

_Another drill was about teamwork, in which, Dean and I had a hard time doing until our fathers came up to us like a torrential force. It was a terrifying sight._

_"Him? He's nothing."_

_Blood gushed out from Mikey's throat just as the demon, Meg, shoved his body to the floor. A pool of blood surrounded him…he was dead in the matter of seconds. There were screams and shouts, only for me to see flashes of my sisters' and mother's corpses lying on the floor, motionless._

_"It's your fault we're dead, Abigail!" Shelby's burnt corpse screamed out. "You should've died!" Alyssa's charred form grasped my arm tightly, eyes yellowed from the smoke, "Abby, why didn't you save us?" Mikey stood behind Alyssa and Shelby's burned forms, pale and bloodied. "He's watching you, Abigail. He's gonna find you."_

_"I don't understand the blind faith you two have in the man."_

_"If it weren't for you abandoning this family for school, I could've kept Dean and Abigail in line and prevented her from carrying that thing!"_

_John's hand remained wrapped around my throat, his grip ever tighter. "You never wanted this child, Dean. What does this whore have that you can't find in another?"_

_"Can we not fight?"_

_"You're leavin' again, aren't you?" I muttered into the crook of John's neck._

_He stepped back with a chuckle. "I'll be right here waiting until you and the baby get out of the hospital. I promise."_

_Heart monitors wailed in my ears in a monotonous tone. John was dead._

I shot upright with a shout, drenched in sweat, legs damp, sheets twisted and soaked. Breathing heavily, heart pounding in my throat, I leaned forward in bed resting my head in my hands. My entire body felt like it was on fire. "Dammit," I croaked out, upon hearing heavy footsteps rush toward the room.

Untangling myself from the wad of sheets, Dean entered the room with an alarmed expression, halting at the door frame. "Abigail, are you okay?"

There was a slight hesitation in my voice. "…yeah, I'm good." Dean's eyes raked over the tangled mess of sweat-drenched sheets and my haggard appearance before sitting down in the bed beside me. Placing his cool hands against my face. It didn't take him long to pull them away, growing concerned.

"Jesus…Abs, you're burning up," he murmured, knitting his brows when I moved away from him and rose to my feet with a wince. "You need to be lying down," he continued when I limped over to Megan's bassinet, looking at her sleeping form. I silently thanked the heavens above for not waking her up. Throwing a glance towards the bureau with a large, round mirror, I met the exhausted, haggard, and sweaty face of my own reflection.

"I'm fine, Dean," I muttered while running my fingers through my hair. I frowned at the greasy feeling. "Nothin' I can't handle."

"Will you just lay down?" he asked motioning to the bed. "I'll keep an eye on Megan."

I turned my head, seeing the impatient man stand. "Dean, I'm okay—really."

"No, you're not." I raised a brow at him. "You've been getting sicker and sicker since Gordon stabbed you in the leg." I rolled my eyes at him. He was meaning well, but he was also getting on my nerves, which wasn't a surprise. I reached out to place my weight against the dresser, hobbling over to the door. Dean let out an irritated breath while I left the room, distinctly hearing him mutter to Megan, "I swear I'm gonna hogtie your mother to the bed."

I stopped at the top of the stairs, realizing the daunting task of getting down them. Sam or Dean usually helped me, but seeing how Dean was having a conversation with Megan and Sam was oblivious to what I was doing, I figured it was my turn to be independent. I mean, it was only ten measly steps, how bad could it be?

Taking a deep breath, I turned my back to the wall, pressing against it firmly in order to gain some kind of leverage, and took a step down. Upon putting all my weight on my bad leg, I discovered I'd made a horrible mistake. Pain exploded from it, sending shockwaves of heat throughout my body. I let out a sharp breath that sounded vaguely like a whimper as I took a moment to muster up the will to tackle the rest of the stairs. That was until Dean's heavy footsteps came down the hallway. I pressed my lips in a thin line, waiting for him to say something.

On cue, I heard Dean grate out, "What the hell are you doing, Abigail?"

I turned my head in his direction like a repentant child, and offered him a sheepish grin. "Um. Goin' down the stairs?" I asked, pointing my thumb downstairs.

Dean shook his head, eyes narrowed. "Oh, no. Back up the stairs."

My eyes widened in an incredulous manner, darting from Dean's narrowed gaze, down the stairs, then back up to Dean. "But—"

"No buts." I groaned, tipping my head back until it hit the wall with a dull thud.

"Dean, I'm not stayin' upstairs." I lifted my head back up, drawing my brows together, "I'm tired of just layin' down." I willed myself to continue my trek, taking another step down and scrunched my face again just as another wave of heat coursed through my body. "I can do that when I'm dead."

"Yeah, and I'd rather you not achieve that status anytime soon," he quipped taking a few steps down the stairs as I took a series of chills, then became lightheaded, slipping down a step. I waited for the inevitable round of stairs hitting and bruising whatever extremity hit. Instead, I felt strong arms wrap around me from behind and kept me supported. In lieu of the sharp movement, another jolt of pain elicited a groan from me. "Abigail, you're laying down. End of story." I flinched at the angry tone of his voice, but I couldn't help hear an underlying tone of worry within it as well. It was a default tone of his that Sam and I both have heard over the years.

Sam's tall form came to the bottom of the stairs, peering up at us both, concerned. "What happened?" he asked, looking up to Dean for an answer.

"Short bus thought it was a good idea to get out of bed and walk," came his brother's rough reply. Sam's brows rose in a poignant manner, looking over to me for confirmation. Again, like a repentant child, I avoided his gaze, reaching out and taking hold of my leg. It was so sore to touch. The bandage that was wrapped around it securely had turned a deep, nasty looking color, which really made Dean worry.

"Just…take me to the couch and I'll stay there. I don't want to be in bed," I finally muttered out, defeated by the pain in my leg. I knew I was eaten up with a fever, often breaking out in cold sweats and shivering. Hell, my entire body was aching it seemed like. I watched Sam's eyes flicker up to Dean, sensing both of their worry and concern. Then I felt Dean shift his weight behind me.

"Alright," he said, "To the couch and nowhere else. I catch you up, I'm gonna handcuff you to the leg of it." Wordlessly, I nodded while the walking contradiction that was my fiancé, lifted me back up to my feet with the utmost gentleness, and helped me down the stairs where Sam came to the other side of me, allowing myself to wrap an arm around his waist for more support. The walk to the living room was effortless as they set me down. Dean pulled the coffee table over to me and tossed a pillow on it. "Put your leg up," he instructed.

I did as I was told, avoiding any form of eye contact. I heard Megan's warbling cry from upstairs, twisting my head towards the stairs with a distraught expression. Dean's eyes followed mine, calmly taking a moment to lean over and press his lips on my forehead in a tender kiss. "I'll get her." Straightening up, he looked to his brother, "Sam, get that first aid kit from the closet. I gotta change that bandage." Sam nodded, moving out of sight, then Dean—which left me to myself for a long beat.

I allowed myself to relax into the couch, resting my head along the back. It felt over a hundred degrees in the house, which, I was pretty sure was just me due to the fever. I leaned forward, peeling off my button-up shirt, leaving me in a plain, gray camisole. Sam was first to come back, however he had more than just a first aid kit. He had an extra pillow and blanket under an arm. "Sammy, you didn't have to get that," I said weakly.

"Abigail, you need to rest…" His puppy-dog look was in full effect. "You look awful."

I forced a small smile. "Well, you should see the other guy."

This caused him to drop his head, letting out a breathy laugh. "Yeah, he's got it worse." Sam agreed, peering back up at me before sitting in the empty spot on the couch. He set the first aid kit on the table and opened it up. I watched in silence as he took out some more gauze, surgical tape, antiseptic, and an ACE bandage, setting each one down in front of him. A few moments later, Dean descended the stairs carrying Megan in one arm, and a small bouncer in the other.

Sam and I looked at him. "Diaper change," he replied, putting the bouncer on the ground beside my end of the couch, securely placing her in it. With a sigh, Dean planted himself on the table, undoing my bandage. We all sat in silence, Sam watching Dean unravel the bandage while I had my attention on Megan.

"Jesus, no wonder your leg isn't healing. It's infected. Bad," Dean murmured, eyes flickering to my curious expression. His tone of voice softened, once again, another contradiction—sharp words, gentle tone. My eyes fell onto my leg. The affected area where Gordon's knife had been was a deep, angry red with a mixture of blood and infection seeping out from the wound. The color overall seemed to have travelled up and down, turning much of my leg into an angry red and yellow hue. In truth, it turned my stomach to look at it. "We need to get you to a doctor."

"Dean—" I could hear the exhausted and weak tonality of my voice, which undoubtedly signified that there was something wrong with me. Upon receiving his hardened expression, I cast my gaze elsewhere. Sam had already left the couch, heading upstairs to make a diaper bag for the trip, obviously.

"This is just too risky, Abigail." Dean twisted to get the bottles of alcohol and peroxide, opening each lid. With a clean napkin, he poured alcohol onto it then gently dabbed around the initial area, getting what infection that had leaked out. I hissed when it got into the wound itself, gripping the blanket in my hand. "I shoulda killed 'im when I had the chance." There it was again, that rough tone. Setting the napkin into a bag, he dabbed another one with peroxide across the wound, watching with narrowed eyes as it bubbled, indicating an infection. "I shoulda done something."

"We were both tied up. Doin' somethin' was kinda inhibited," I said. "Gordon's locked up, and hopefully won't see the light of day for a long time."

Dean hummed. "Ripping his lungs out would've solved some problems." I smiled, watching his facial features scrunch in deep concentration as he placed clean layers of gauze on my wound, then set them in place with surgical tape. Wrapping it in an ACE bandage, he remained sitting on the table, reaching out with a delicate hand as he took my wrists, turning them over with an analytical gaze. They were healing nicely, the scabbing had all but rubbed away revealing healthy pink tissue. Feeling a knot ball up in my stomach, I watched as his eyes trailed up my arm where another blade of Gordon's made a path. There were a few places that needed a stitch or two, but overall, it was healing nicely. In fact, the one across my chest that had a dozen or so stitches and the small nick on my neck were healing well. It was just my leg that I was having issues with.

For a brief moment, I closed my eyes at the cool touch of his hands—I was just too hot from this fever. Sam returned with a small bag in tow. It wasn't a diaper bag, which caused me to furrow my brows out of confusion. "I got Abigail a change of clothes," he told us. "Go ahead and take her to the hospital. I'll look after Megan."

I exchanged a look with Dean. "Are you sure?" He regarded his brother's proposition.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. You guys go ahead. Abigail needs to see a doctor."

Dean met my gaze, then looked down at Megan, who was knocked out again. "Alright. If you need anything—"

"Call. I know," Sam told us with a knowing smirk, "And if I have any problems, call." Sam knew the drill already. With Dean and I both reassured that he'd keep a close eye on our daughter, Dean had helped me into a pair of sweatpants and a jacket, escorting me outside where it felt unbelievably amazing. I let out a sigh of content, hobbling out to the Impala.

"I could just sit out here," I mused.

"And you'd freeze," Dean commented while he opened the passenger side door, letting me sit in the seat before he closed it. Rounding the front, he got in and turned the key to the ignition, turning his head to look at Sam from the window. "We'll keep you updated."

With a definitive nod, Sam retreated back into Bobby's house, leaving the rumbling sound of the engine roaring to life a welcoming sound. The ride to the hospital didn't take long; it was the wait in the ER waiting room that was. I think we sat there for almost two hours before Dean started to get rather irritated (and that was saying it lightly) before I was called back into the triage area.

The nurse back there did the routine checkup; height, weight, why I was there. Throwing a pensive look to Dean, I slipped out of my sweatpants in front of her exposing my wound. Judging from the deeply concerned expression on her face, she left the room and in no time, a doctor came in to look at my leg. Needless to say, they ran all kinds of tests on me (in which Dean was about to climb the walls from being so aggravated and worried) and hooked me up to an IV.

Remaining planted in his seat beside my gurney, he would either rub his face a few times or run his hands through his hair. "This is taking too fucking long." I looked down at the IV in my hand with a scowl, picking at the edge of the tape until Dean swatted my elbow, making me jump. "Quit picking at that."

"What?" I asked innocently, only to break out into a sheepish smile when his brow arched at me. I knew how irritated Dean was with waiting, I wanted to leave just as bad and get back to Sam and Megan. We'd already been here for almost four hours and they'd given me some low-key pain killers, which was okay considering that my fever had broken for the most part. I scooted over in bed and patted the empty space; Dean gave it a quizzical look. "Come sit with me." Dean raised a brow, eyes flickering to the small space and monitors attached to me, then fell back in place, considering my offer. "There's enough room."

"Fine." He lifted up several cords over his head, joining me on the bed, and carefully drew me close to him. Whether it was the drugs or the mild fever talking, I must've conked out, only to jerk awake at the sound of the door opening. Dean's body jerking was another indication that someone had entered. Lifting my head up, I watched as the doctor stood at the door with a perplexed look, wondering why Dean was in the bed with me.

Dean offered him a wry smile as he lifted a shoulder in a half-assed shrug, "She couldn't sleep."

"I going to have to ask you to get out of the gurney, Mr. McGillicutty," he said, earning a look of disapproval from Dean.

"Yeah, yeah…" he grunted, slipping out from under the cords and stood up, stretching. "So, what's the news, doc?"

The doctor looked down at the charts briefly, sensing an underlying feeling of concern. "Miss. Winchester's tests just came back from the labs, and it's showing that she has a severe infection—cellulitis."

Dean's brows drew in confusion, "What does that mean?"

"Cellulitis is a spreading bacterial infection of the skin and tissues of the skin," he explained, "If you catch it early, it's not too bad, but seeing the extent of Miss. Winchester…I'm glad you came in."

"That doesn't sound too good," I said, seeing the doctor shake his head.

"No, it isn't. Had you stay a day or two without treatment, you might've lost your leg, or even worse." There was a pang of anger boiling in my chest. I glanced to Dean, seeing his neck and ears turn a deep shade of red at the news. I leaned forward in the bed, placing a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up to me, jaw tightened, then took my hand in his.

"What's the treatment?" Dean asked.

"We want to give her a round of antibiotics and a steroid shot, clean out the wound really good to get rid of what infection is already there. We do want to keep her overnight for observation due to the extent of this infection."

"Doc, I can do everything else, but I can't stay the night here. We left our three month old preemie daughter with his brother," I protested.

"I understand that, ma'am, but it's for the best."

"What if they both watched over me real close?" I pressed. "Any of the symptoms come back, I'll be back in here—no questions asked…" Dean looked from me to the doctor. "Doc, I don't want to be away from my baby."

The doctor's calculative gaze fell over me, then to Dean, "You can go home…" I let out a sigh of relief. "On one condition."

"Anythin'."

"Your symptoms get worse, you come straight back. Meaning, if you have a high fever, any pains, or if the leakage doesn't clear up with the medication, you come back. Stay hydrated. I can't emphasize that enough, Miss. Winchester." I nodded. "Which also means, Mr. McGullicutty—" Dean straightened in his seat, "You don't let her out of your sight. Make sure she gets enough rest and enough fluids. Do not let her get up for any reason unless it is to relieve herself."

Dean gave him a curt nod, "Don't gotta tell me twice, Doc."

"Alright. I'll write you out a prescription of steroids and antibiotics—take all of them, even after symptoms are gone," he instructed.

"Okay," I said.

* * *

**_Singer's Auto Salvage—Night (to Early Morning)_**

**_December 4th, 2006_**

Getting to come home was a God send, and of course, Dean stuck to what the doctor had said. I was escorted to the couch by Sam and Dean, where they had placed a series of pillows on it and propped me up, before Dean tucked a blanket around me. Sam had pulled a chair from the kitchen, setting it beside me while Dean had disappeared, leaving him, me, and Megan watching Mean Girls.

"So, cellulitis?" Sam asked, handing me over a bowl of popcorn.

With Megan propped on my chest, sound asleep, I hummed unenthusiastically, "Yeah…had to argue with the doctor to send me home."

"Is that why Dean has you on lockdown?"

Again, I hummed, "Yup."

Sam grinned, "So, it's like that time in high school you went on a date with some guy and he practically dragged you back to the motel room."

I scrunched my face, knowing exactly what he meant, leaning my head back to look at him with narrowed eyes. "Ugh. Sam, did you have to bring that up?" Sam gave me a toothy grin, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth as he chewed.

"What can I say, the guy was a friggin' douche," Dean answered, causing Sam and I to turn our heads, "and I think I still deserve a 'Thank You' for getting you out of there." He carried a bowl of something, setting it down on the coffee table along with a pack of saltine crackers and a beer. I looked at the contents, raising my brows at him. He grinned at us proudly, "Dad's famous cure-all sink stew. Enough cayenne pepper in there to burn your lips off, just like he used to make."

"Dean, you didn't have to make that," I said, running a hand down Megan's back when she squirmed.

"Doc's orders, sugar-pie. Keep an eye on you and keep you hydrated. Now, eat," he ordered, picking up Megan with the upmost gentleness, and placed her against his chest as he sat down in the recliner. I slid upright in the couch, reaching out to pick up the bowl. "There's more where that came from, Francis."

Sam shook his head, "Uh, no, thanks." He grimaced as I took a bite of the piping hot stew. Just like John would make, it certainly stayed true to its roots.

Dean pulled a face, "Whatever you say." After two bites, I had already broken out in a sweat, catching his small, knowing smile that the stew's effects was beginning to work.

After I had emptied the bowl, I looked over to him with a bit of shyness. "Dean?" His eyes met mine with a curious look, "Would you care to get me another bowl?"

His gaze then softened, "No, not at all." He said, standing up with Megan asleep in his arms. Dean placed her in her bassinet that had been situated between the recliner and sofa before he picked up the bowl, then placed a kiss on my forehead. Throughout the remainder of Mean Girls, I think Dean watched me eat and laugh more than he watched the movie itself.

"Crap." Sam and I looked to Dean with a curious gaze.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Abigail needs to take her meds," Dean grunted, getting out of the recliner. I groaned. I had taken a dose upon leaving the hospital, but seeing how I have to be double dosed, I was dreading it. Seconds later, he came back in with a clear, red bottle. I pulled a disgusted face when he handed it out. "C'mon, Abs. I've seen kids eat their own boogers and handle it better."

I took a swallow, grimacing. "I think I'd rather take the boogers," I said. "That shit's nasty."

Dean scoffed, "Oh, c'mon! It couldn't be that bad!"

I waved my hand in a nonchalant manner, allowing him to take the bottle. "If it ain't so bad, take you a sip and tell us, big boy." Dean pulled a look that meant he thought he knew all. Sam and I watched with smug expressions as he unscrewed the cap and stuck his finger in it, then popped his finger in his mouth. With a raise of his brows, Dean retracted his finger from his mouth, causing me to grin.

"I was wrong,'' he said simply before taking a long, drawn out swallow of beer. "I feel for you." I rolled my eyes as he took seat back in the recliner.

"You're tellin' me," I muttered, sinking back into the couch with a sigh. Upon finishing Mean Girls, Sam bid us both a goodnight, heading upstairs to bed.

Being to ourselves, Dean turned on Nightmare Before Christmas, then joined me on the couch in a pair of shorts and a shirt. With an arm propped under my head and another wrapped around my waist, the two of us were more than content with where we were at, even in the sickly state I was in. We watched the movie in silence, barely uttering a sound except for when Megan would start whining, and sometimes we wouldn't even pay attention to the movie.

For the most part, we felt…complete. Megan's company had filled a ginormous hole caused by John's death, but we knew he couldn't have been any more proud of how far we'd come as parents. We were a family, meaning we needed to stick together through the hard times, push our way through the times that knock us down on our asses, and with that in mind, prevail each obstacle that gets shoved in our way.

At some point, the two of us had fallen asleep. I woke up to the sound of heavy boots hitting the floor in front of me. The sun was beginning to come up and lighten the sky upon opening my eyes. I saw Bobby lean over the bassinet, pick up Megan with a tired smile, and hold her close to him. He turned, seeing that I was sitting up, and nodded back to the pillow and scrounged up form of Dean. "You don't have to worry about her. I got the baby covered. Go back to sleep ya idjit," he said in a gentle, yet gruff, tone.

Not questioning him, I nodded, lying back down as he moved past the couch with my daughter in his arms. "M'kay, Bobby…"

* * *

**_Five Days Later_**

**_December 9th, 2006_**

I woke with a start, hearing Bobby's gruff voice somewhere close followed by Dean's, then the tall tale signs of Sam's snarky scoff. Remaining in whatever position I was laying in on the couch, I still felt nauseated, yet in a way I didn't. I had been couch bound for nearly a week, orders of the good doctor and enforced by Dean Winchester. Needless to say me and this old, lumpy, uncomfortable couch had developed some kind of bond—and was no longer uncomfortable to me.

I laid there for a long moment before I decided to run my hand over my face roughly. I raised my leg up, worked my ankle around until it popped, flexed my foot a couple of times, and let my leg swing to a ninety degree angle with no signs of pain. With my leg still up in the air, I pulled down the pant leg of Dean's lounge pants inspecting the now pink and healthy looking skin around the scabbed over wound. Considering the condition it was in a few days prior, it was a thousand times better than what it was.

The only downside to that? I had a limp due to the muscle damage in my leg, and it was evident when I walked. I knew the tissue was healing ever so slowly, but it worried Dean. The worry often traveled to Sam, who always asked hypothetical questions pertaining to my career as a hunter. Sam wouldn't catch those worried, determined looks Dean would often bear through his calm exterior, but I would. It was a touchy subject for all of us. We didn't know the extent of Gordon's damage to my leg.

Yet, through the past few days, Dean remained ever so close to my side. I was never out of his sight. He'd help me from the couch to the bathroom, clean the wound thoroughly, cooked, cleaned, and despite my persistent protests, bathe me when I didn't need help. After a day, I stopped protesting due to the possibility that Dean just liked the thought of being needed…so I let him do just that.

I think that level of being needed surprised Sam when he made the mistake of escorting me to the bathroom and back, only to have a very jealous Dean practically pouting in the recliner and whined about it for the remainder of the night. Lucky for Sam and me, he just opened himself to be the butt of an inside joke for us.

Megan was becoming more active for an infant her size. Being five months old and developing slowly for a baby her age, it was tough knowing that she'd be behind her age group by three months. What really had doctors scratching their heads was the fact that she was already beginning to babble like a three month old, imitating facial expressions, and was trying to roll over onto her stomach. Personally, I believed that all babies developed differently, no matter how early they were born, due to how well she was progressing. Megan just seemed like she was one of the select few who'd begun to develop quicker than most preemies; strange on their part, astounding and relieving on ours.

There was never a dull moment when we interacted with her. By "we", I mean, Bobby, Dean, Sam, and I. It was an absolute sight, seeing three grown men argue over who got to feed her, who got to hold her, or carry her around. It was literally a competition, and nine times out of ten, Bobby would reign supreme because he was the oldest, that's why. As a result, Dean would puff up wherever he sat and Sam would purse his lips like he just got a hold of a lemon. If I hadn't known any better, the two brothers were still children. Overgrown by a mile, but still.

Letting my leg down, I grunted as I sat up and looked around to see that Megan wasn't in the bassinet. It registered after a second of confused looking around the living room that the bassinet wasn't there, period. Figuring one of the men had her, I rubbed the heel of my palm against my eye, slowly rising to my feet and tested out the stiffness in my leg. There was still a twinge of pain when weight was placed on it. With a scornful glance at it, I limped towards the kitchen after hearing Megan's high-pitched squeal.

I paused at the doorway briefly to see that Dean had claim on our daughter, lifting her above his head with a huge grin before bringing her close against him, planting a series of kisses on the side of her cheek. Her fist was planted firmly in her mouth, grinning from ear to ear. Sam and Bobby had took notice of my presence, turning their heads to look at me.

"Morning, Abs," Sam greeted, almost in a surprised tone. "You, uh, seem to be doing alright with walking."

"Mornin'," I said. "I'm doin' alright, I guess."

Bringing Megan close to his chest, Dean gave me a skeptical look, glancing to my leg, then back to my face before looking down at Megan, who had turned her eyes on me. "I didn't know you were up," he said, turning his gaze back up to me. I shrugged, limping to where Sam sat and enveloped him in a single-armed hug. I was met with a mutual embrace where he leaned back in his chair and kissed me on the cheek in a brotherly fashion before we let go and I limped over to Dean. I placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning in to kiss him on the lips gently. It was a quick peck, but before I straightened up, I grinned to Megan, kissing the top of her fuzzy head.

"Good mornin' my sunshine," I told her in a soft tone as my daughter looked up to me with a gummy smile. "Let momma get her some coffee and she'll get ya." As I straightened up, I absentmindedly ran my hand through Dean's untrimmed hair, causing it to muss up and stand on end almost. With my back turned, I knew Dean was smiling to himself at the touch, unknowing that Sam and Bobby were smugly looking to each other.

"You did it again," Dean said, causing me to turn with a mug in my hands. I hummed innocently, staring at him, curious. He twisted in his seat, motioning to his mussed up hair with his free hand. I mouthed 'oh'.

"Sorry." I went over to the pot and poured myself some coffee. I could feel their eyes on me, always worrying about how I walked. From the two brothers, I felt pity and anger. From Bobby, I felt pity, "Guys, I'm gonna be fine," I said, growing slightly irritated without them saying anything. "I just gotta have time to let this stupid thing heal."

Bobby let out a cough to hide his surprise while Sam smiled wryly.

"Abigail, we can't help but worry about it."

I rolled my eyes at them. "Ya'll worry too much," I muttered into the cup before taking a sip of the black liquid.

"It'd be a problem if we didn't," Dean added, earning a thoughtful nod from me.

"True, but ease up on me. I've been through worse and pulled through just fine." I met three different arched brows. "What? I have," I protested.

"You wouldn't speak for a month after your parents died," Dean pointed out. "You had night terrors, and you still do—"

"On occasion," I cut in.

"You drowned," Sam added.

"But I came back," I pointed out. "Both times. I was in a coma, and I came back…" because of John. We all felt that heaviness of John's death proceeding my words. I felt everyone's painful clench, magnifying mine. I blew out a breath. "Guys, whether you want to believe it or not, I'm fine. Being stabbed is a cakewalk for me. 's not like it's my first rodeo, and it sure ain't gonna be my last."

"We got a right to be worried about you, idjit," Bobby piped up. I raised my brows at him, "Whether you know it or not, you're damn lucky to have people worried about your well-being." I tucked an arm under my elbow. "Family don't end with blood, girl. You best believe that, and you better know that we're always going to worry about you."

"I second that notion," Sam said.

I caught the corner of Dean's mouth turn up in a smirk. "Here, here," He said, lifting his cup of coffee and took a drink. Megan let out a sound that sounded like, oooh. I smiled at her. "You hear that, Abs? Megan agrees with us."

"Well, I guess since the boss agrees with the three of you, I got no choice then to suck it up," I mused, setting the empty cup in the sink. "If I can't beat you, I guess I'll just join you." Dean and I exchanged arms, placing Megan in mine before I took a seat at the table with them just as one of the many phones on Bobby's wall began ringing. Bobby rolled his eyes, standing up.

"Agent Kayser," came his gruff answer.

"So…" Dean began.

"So?" I echoed.

Dean glanced over to Sam quickly. "We, uh, might've found us a case or two."

"Oh?" I said, smiling down to Megan as she wiggled in my arms for a moment.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "One's in Washington, possible nest of ghouls and another in New Mexico, a possible shapeshifter."

I glanced up to each of the boys. "Go on."

Dean blinked a couple of times. "You sure?"

I nodded, "Yeah. I'll hold down the fort with Bobby and Megan."

"Are you absolutely sure?" Sam asked.

I arched my brow. "My leg is still healing. Do you really want me to get out and mess it up more?"

Dean pulled a face, tilting his head to the side. "Good point."

I leaned back in the chair holding Megan closer to me. "I can stay here, do research on whatever you need that way I can keep an eye on Megan," I said, waving my free hand for emphasis. "I want you two to get out and do some cases—stretch your legs. Bobby'll keep a lookout for me."

Dean and Sam shared an uneasy look. I believe that they weren't expecting the answer that came out of my mouth. I saw a glimmer of apprehension from under Dean's calm look. With pursed lips, Dean began to nod his head as a way of confirming my decision to stay behind. "Okay," he said, meeting my gaze. "Abs, if you need anything, and I mean anything—Megan being in the hospital, you getting hurt, doesn't matter what—you call us."

Sam nodded at his brother's words. "We'll drop everything and come back."

I offered a knowing smile to the both of them. "Of course," I nodded to the stairs, "Go on and get your things. I ain't goin' anywhere." Sam rose from the table, then left, heading upstairs to gather his stuff. Dean however, remained behind casting a glance to Bobby, who was still on the phone muttering silent curses at whoever he was talking to. Catching the hint, I rose to my feet with my daughter in my arms, followed by Dean as we made our way upstairs to the bedroom. When we got there Dean closed the door behind him where he remained, pressing his back against the door.

"What's wrong?" I asked, turning around to face him, only to see worry and apprehension weighing on his features. Dean didn't speak for a long moment. He would look around the room with darting eyes, fixate his jaw in a rigid manner, then finally hung his head with a loud sigh as he ran a hand down his face.

"I don't like the thought of leaving you behind when you're still hurt," he admitted. I smiled warmly at him.

"Dean, I'm goin' to be fine," I told him out of reassurance. It didn't work. We were silent again for another moment, allowing me to watch as Megan stared around the room, then fixated on the design of my shirt.

"So much for a long break, huh?"

I smiled at his apprehension. "Dean, you and I both know a long break isn't goin' to happen. There's always goin' to be a job that needs to be done somewhere, some way or another." I didn't have to sense the painful tug of my heartstrings to know that Dean knew I was telling the truth. And it was. I sat down on the bed, pushing myself against the wall until my back was resting against it, and then placed Megan beside me. Looking over to Dean, I patted the empty spot beside her as an invitation for him to join us. Out of nowhere, she got overly excited about something and started kicking her legs and swinging her arms, letting out a loud squeal and made a mess of spit bubbles. I winced at how high-pitched she got, earning a throaty chuckle from Dean, who'd finally relented from standing and joined us on the bed with an audible grunt.

"I kinda wish you would go with us," he admitted.

I chuckled at his attempts to sway my decision. "You and I both know we can't afford to leave Megan here all the time. Bobby hunts too."

Dean nodded. "We could take her with us."

I shook my head with a sour look on my face. "Some of those places we stay at are nasty."

"Yeah, that's true," Dean mused with a nod of his head. "We could use the cards Charlie gave us and use 'em." He looked to me with a grin. "Get us a four star room with an all you can eat breakfast buffett, spa, gym thing for Sam so he can do his hamster wheel tricks, and a pool. They're clean. Kinda."

"All that glitters ain't gold. Remember that," I commented with a smirk. "I know you don't like the idea of me stayin' behind, but you know I can't risk gettin' and makin' my leg worse when it's healin'. And we for sure can't risk gettin' Megan sick. She's still too young and her immune system ain't all that great still."

Dean let out a breath. "Yeah, you're right. I swear when we get back from these jobs, I'm busting her out of here." I beamed at him just as Megan's lips spread into a big smile and stuck her tongue out. Dean picked her up and placed her against his legs as he drew them up to him. "We're gonna bust out of here, aren't we, princess? Take your mom and uncle Sam with us and just go somewhere for a while." He leaned forward, pressing his lips against her forehead.

We could hear Sam shuffling around in the room beside us as he packed, probably giving Dean some time to pack, but also letting him spend some more time with Megan, elongating their departure time. I took the opportunity to move closer against him. Dean tilted his head to look at me as I did so, allowing the corner of his mouth to tip up into a small smile. Neither of us couldn't find anything else to say.

We didn't know how long these two cases were going to take. Two weeks, maybe three? I then felt the knot of apprehension twist my stomach around like a pretzel. This was the reality of what our lives were going to be. One of us was going to stay behind and take care of Megan while the other two went and took a job or two. It was going to be an interesting feat until we could find a rhythm that suited us, but this was for the best.

"You know, we did a good job on Megan," Dean said suddenly. I tilted my head to the side, confused. There was a proud twinkle in his eyes when his gaze met mine. "I mean, look at her, Abs. She's everything we could ever want…and more."

"Yeah…we did do a good job…didn't we?" I mused as we looked down to our daughter as she 'ooh'd and gurgled with a grin on her face.

"I think she looks like you…" Dean said, tracing his fingertips along her forehead and nose. "She has your nose and mouth."

"But she has your eyes," I added. "And your appetite. And she doesn't like her legs being covered up." Dean grinned at me in a sheepish manner before looking back down to Megan. She was so innocent and unknowing of what true horror's laid outside this very home. I prayed out of fear that she didn't have to bear witness to any of it. I brought my thumb up to my mouth, beginning to chew on the skin around it as that thought haunted me. She remained propped up on Dean's legs, allowing me to watch as he interacted with her.

His overall interaction was filled with child-like wonder and curiosity, as well as revealing a side that didn't often show when we were on hunts. It was a side of him that was usually reserved for innocents like babies and children, one that also withheld a fiercely protective side that would prove fatal for many people and monsters alike that would intend harm towards her. "For a kid to be born three months early, she's one hell of an active baby."

"I know," I mused. "She does a lot…you don't think that guy I saw has somethin' to do with her bein' okay and bein' able to do these things, do you?"

Dean fell silent. Watching Megan closely as she continued to kick and sling her arms, and finally squealing. "I don't know. Maybe." I fell silent, observing his close gaze on our daughter. There was no doubt that he loved Megan. I think it bothered him to think that something supernatural had helped us, even when he felt like we didn't need it. Dean Winchester was avidly biased when it came to monsters, ghosts, and demons alike. I also think that it really bothered him that something had healed our daughter when he couldn't do anything but to sit, helpless, as we volleyed back and forth with different hits concerning her health.

"Do you think that some point we'll have another one?" he asked.

"Another one what?" I asked. "Another baby?"

Dean shrugged, lacing both of his index fingers with Megan's hands and moved them back and forth before he brought her hands up to his lips and kissed them, "Yeah."

I stared down at Megan for a beat. "I dunno. Maybe when things aren't blowin' up in our faces and we find somethin' a little more permanent…it's liable to change any time though." My eyes flickered up to Dean. "You mean, you want another kid?"

"Yeah. I'd like for Megan to have someone like how I had Sam, and you with Mikey, Shelby, and Alyssa…you know…someone else to play with when we can't." An emotion I couldn't quite put my finger on graced his face…regret, maybe. "But…" He shook his head. "Ah, never mind."

I furrowed my brow at him, "What?"

His lips pressed together. "Nah, it's dumb."

"Dean, nothin' you say is gonna be dumb," I pressed.

He let out a sigh, "I can't help but think that this life…whatever we're trying to play off between having some kind of apple-pie life and doing what we do... isn't going to work out. I just don't think that us being hunters is going to allow us to have another baby…I mean, if we do, then we do. We'll figure it out like we did when you were pregnant with Megan." I nodded, trying to make sense of what he was getting at, then he let out another irritated breath. He was getting frustrated all over again. "Dammit, I don't know what I'm trying to get at, Abs." I watched as he clenched his jaw several times, trying in vain to think of something right to say, "I told you it was going to be dumb."

I placed my hand between Megan's back and on Dean's thigh, squeezing it reassuringly. "Like I said, Dean. Nothin' you say is gonna be dumb." He looked at me with a troubled expression. "I get what you're tryin' to say. We still don't exactly have a plan for Megan, let alone one to even begin to think about another baby, but we have a long time to think about what's best for her. We just have to…roll with the punches, I guess," I said with a small shrug, "That's what we do, and that's what we're good at. In the end, it works out."

"Yeah, but…I just don't want us to be where we were at a few months ago," Dean said lightly. "Not talking. Always fighting…about nothing," He scoffed with a shake of his head. "We practically fought for no reason, and then it ended up with you leaving." He swallowed hard. "I don't want that to be us, Abigail, ever again." I licked my bottom lip, allowing his pain-filled words to sink in. "Abs, I don't want Megan or any of our kids to be separated all because we were too selfish to not talk to each other."

"I don't want that either…" I replied in the same soft tone, replacing my hand on Megan's belly as she looked to the both of us and squirmed.

"I mean it, Abigail." Dean took my hand in his, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the back of my hand. "I know I'm not good at this relationship thing. Not one bit, and I've proved it too many times than I can count by screwing it up with you. Megan deserves better—from the both of us. We can't just make decisions like we used to."

I shook my head slowly. "No, we can't."

With my hand still in his, he brought it up to his lips, pressing them against a soft kiss. "And I promise you, Abs, I'm gonna put a ring on this hand and call you mine."

"Oh really?" I asked with a smirk.

That infuriating, cocky grin graced his features once again. "Yup."

I leaned in closer to him until our lips met. Our kiss was intense. Not the kind of intense that would make one want to tear clothes off each other via teeth and ravage their bodies until either party was screaming out their name. Instead, it was passionate and needy, reassurance that this moment was real. Dean was dreading this trip without Megan and I, and it spoke volumes within our kiss. His hand found its way to the side of my face as the kiss deepened until a knock at the door. I could feel Dean's heart sink, knowing that Sam was ready to leave when Dean hadn't even started packing.

I held my hand against his cheek with a soft smile. "What if I told you I was already yours the day we met, but didn't know it at the time?"

"Baby girl, I've always been yours since the day we met. I was too much of an ass to see it."

"Dean?" Sam asked, twisting the knob to the door and cracked it wide enough to poke his head in. "You ready?"

Dean cleared his throat, offering him a nod and smile. "Yeah, yeah…I'm ready."

Sam nodded, opening the door further as he stepped in. "I was gonna see Megan before we left…I mean, if you want to wait a little bit longer, that is." Dean looked down to Megan, then nodded.

"Yeah, that's fine. Whatever you want to do, Francis." He smiled at his brother as he carefully handed our daughter to him. "Just don't drop her."

Sam gave him a pointed look, however, relented on saying anything to Dean. "Your dad is gonna get it one day," he muttered, holding Megan in his arms securely, then walked out of the room with our daughter. Dean smirked.

"He wishes."

"You and him are literally two overgrown kids," I said, seeing him shrug. "What're we gonna do for Christmas?" I blurted out in a thoughtful manner. It caught Dean off guard, judging by the confused look he gave me when I asked that.

"Uh…I dunno," he answered.

"We gotta do something for Megan…it's her first Christmas," I said.

"We'll think of something," he said as he stood up. I remained on the bed, watching him take several folded shirts and stuff them into a duffel bag. "Crap."

"What?" I asked.

"Your birthday's gonna be in a few days," he replied.

I groaned, ungracefully sliding into the bed. "Oh my God. Don't remind me."

"Why do you hate your birthday so much?"

"Same reason you hate it when we do something for your birthday," I quipped, laying at an awkward angle as he stuffed a couple pairs of blue jeans into the bag.

He turned, furrowing his brows at the position I was in, then raised his brow. "I don't hate my birthday."

"Yes, you do."

"Oh, no I don't, cherry-pie," he stated with a shake of his head. Dean was chuckling. "Trust me, I don't. Anything you and Sam do for me is one of my favorite things that's done on that day."

"Really?"

He looked at me from over his shoulder. "Yeah."

"Huh," I mused, thinking of something new to do for his birthday, since you know, it was coming up in the matter of a few weeks. Sitting up, I rose to my feet and came up behind him, snaking my arms around his waist then rested my head against his back. "I'm gonna miss you," I muttered.

Dean turned around in my arms so that he could look at me. "Same here, but hey, gives you time to look for another man." I scoffed, swatting his shoulder playfully. His arms wound around my waist, drawing me in close as he chuckled, burying his face into the crook of my neck. "I'm going to miss you girls."

"I know," I murmured. "I'm gonna miss you and Sam."

Finally urging Dean to finish packing, we were all downstairs in the kitchen. I was holding Megan while I stood beside Bobby. Sam and Dean had their duffel bags in their hands, ready to head out the door.

"You idjits be careful," Bobby said. "I'd hate to have to bail you two out of jail."

"We will, Bobby," Dean replied with a smirk. "Gotta watch out for Sam, though, he draws that kind of attention anywhere we go."

Sam arched his brow. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to call," Bobby told them both, looking to each brother.

"Will do." Dean clapped his hand on Bobby's shoulder as Bobby did the same. "We'll call in a few hours."

Holding Megan, I went over to Sam and hugged him. "Watch out for Dean, and make sure he doesn't get into any trouble. Considering…"

Sam nodded, understanding immediately what I was implying. "You know I will."

I smirked. "Try not to kill each other, too," I added, seeing Sam start to laugh.

"Abby, you know how that'll go," he pointed out, making me tilt my head.

"You gotta point," I said thoughtfully. Sam then leaned over to kiss Megan on top of the head, then kissed me on the cheek before he started for the door. Dean, being the last one out, pressed his lips against my forehead, then he then kissed me lightly on the mouth, pulling back with a gentle look.

"Like I said earlier, Abs, you need anything—"

I smiled. "I know, I know," I told him, cutting his sentence short. "Call you guys and you'll drop everything and run."

The corner of Dean's mouth twitched as it curved into a smirk. "That's my girl." He then kissed Megan on top of the head. "Dad loves you, princess. I'll see you and your mom in a few weeks. Keep her company." My smile remained in place as he spoke to our daughter for another minute, grinning at her ooh's and squeals like she was talking right back to him. There was a sharp stab in my chest, knowing without a doubt that it broke his heart to leave us so soon. Pulling me and Megan against him, Dean pressed his lips against my hair. "I love you, Abigail."

When we stepped apart, I nodded, "I know. Be careful, and watch your backs."

"Always." Bobby and I watched as they both exited the house, got into the Impala and then pulled away out of sight. There was a heaviness that weighed upon my chest. I hated being left behind, but with Megan, I don't think I would've chosen it any other way.

* * *

_**Ten Days Later**_

_**December 19th, 2006**_

"Alright, old man, what hand's this?" I asked, pulling out two bottles of beer from the refrigerator.

Bobby sat at the table with Megan in the bassinet. "Two straights." Handing him a bottle, I set mine down and started to shuffle the deck of cards.

"Alright, Megan. You're about to see your momma whip your Papaw Bobby's butt," I said with a grin towards my daughter. She gave me a clueless grin before she popped a fist into her mouth.

Bobby let out a scoff. "Don't listen to your mother, Meg. We'll just see about that."

I snorted, sliding the deck over to him and let him split it. Taking one half, I put it back on top of the other half, then shuffled again, then finally dealt out our hands. Placing Megan in my lap, I put my hand together, often watching her with a grin as she would toddle around while sitting up. She reminded me of a bobble-head toy when she did that.

Bobby and I had been playing May I for little over a couple hours, making this our second round of the game. Needless to say, my game was way off. I was often finding myself thinking about the boys, and how the job was going. If any of them were hurt or not, or if they had a couple run-ins with the law, since Dean was a wanted man in St. Louis. It was a good thing for them to get out and do what they do best, but it was definitely hard raising Megan by myself, even with the help of Bobby.

"You hear from Sam and Dean?" Bobby asked, not peering up from his hand.

I gave him an absentminded nod. "Yeah, heard from Sam a lil' while ago. They were finishin' up that job in Washington."

Bobby let out a grunt, glancing up to me. "Then they got another one in New Mexico?"

I hummed, "Yeah."

"You know, there's a job open, not too far from here." I arched my brow. "A run of the mill salt and burn." He looked up at me through his glasses.

I took a drink of my beer. "What're you sayin'?" I asked, setting the bottle down.

He shrugged. "I'm not sayin' anything, girl. I just know you're itchin' to get out and do something. I can watch Megan while you do that. Shouldn't take you a day, day and a half."

Glancing down at my hand, I swapped places with two cards, then set a straight down. "I dunno, Bobby. Bein' here for the moment is pretty satisfyin'," I said, picking up a card from the deck in front of me. "I mean, I love bein' able to spend time with my daughter. I'm makin' up for lost time while she was in the hospital…" I shrugged, keeping an arm around Megan as I leaned into my chair so that she could rest her head. "Plus, my leg ain't quite healed still."

"So have you and Dean figured out what you're going to do when Megan gets older?" he asked.

I looked down at her, brushing some wisps of hair out of her face. "No…not really. I guess we'll figure it out along with way. It's hard tellin', to be honest, Bobby."

He nodded, "Understandable."

"I just want what's best for her, y'know?" I saw him nod once again, picking out two hands, leaving him with one card.

"Two straights," he said, then flicked the lone card down into the pile, "and I'm out."

I groaned, "Bobby, you're killin' me!"

He let out a belly laugh. "Lesson of the day, don't underestimate your elders even when they look fat and stupid."

I broke out into a grin, joining his laughter as well. "You got me there." I took a swallow of beer, placing the near-full bottle back down onto the table. Bobby got up from his seat as I wrote down our scores, and went into the other room for a moment. I picked Megan up, lifting her over my head with a grin, and blew raspberries on the side of her neck, lifting her back up. She grinned at me, flailing her tiny arms around.

Bobby back came into the room holding something in his hand. Setting Megan back down on my lap, I gave him a quizzical look when he set a small, black velvet bag in front of me, "What's this?"

"A contact of mine gave me this a few years back. Personally, I think it's a little too feminine for my taste." He sat down across from me. "Anyways, happy birthday."

I furrowed my brows at him. "Bobby…I can't take this." I pushed the velvet bag to him. "Besides…ya know I don't celebrate my birthday."

Bobby's hand covered mine, pushing it and the bag back towards me. "You've got more of a use for it than I do. Now, go on and look at it."

"Bobby…" I began to protest, only to see him give me a stern glare. I clamped my mouth shut and opened the bag, emptying its contents onto my hand. A small, silver pendant fell out. It was an interesting little thing. Taking the smooth pendant between my fingers, I held it up to look at it, confused. "What is it?" I asked.

"It's the sigil of Zadkiel. The archangel of mercy and benevolence." I raised my brows at Bobby's words, turning my eyes back onto the pendant. "I did my research when I got it. Nothing fancy."

"So there's more than the five archangels everyone knows about?"

He nodded. "I guess so. From what I understand, Zadkiel is the angel who stopped Abraham from killing Isaac, and is also said to be one of the two bearers who follow directly behind Michael as the head archangel during battle."

I let out an interested hum as I continued to inspect the little, silver thing in my fingers. "So, essentially, this Zadkiel was Michael's second in command?"

Bobby hefted his shoulders in a shrug. "Beats me, but my guess is, yes."

"Huh," I said, absentmindedly, "and this is little thing is goin' to benefit me, how?" I asked, tearing my gaze away in order to look at Bobby.

"It seems like you and Dean need a little…divine intervention with your relationship, considering how rocky it's been since your daddy died." I could feel the corners of my mouth pull into a frown at his words. "I know I'm just an old, fat drunk, but I was married once, too. Don't let one simple mistake be the reason there's regret in your life, Abigail." I remained silent, recollecting Dean and I's conversation before he and Sam had left. "Anyway," Bobby said, breaking me from my thoughts, "from what I read, Zadkiel was considered to be a diplomatic archangel, teaching us humans that every relationship requires taking and giving, loss and gain, and sacrifice and benefit." Subconsciously, I nodded, not really listening to the rest of what Bobby had to say. Dean and I were definitely in a bad spot a few months ago, but as of late, things were fine.

However…something like this wouldn't be too bad to have around.

Clasping my hand around it, I smiled up at him. "Thanks, Bobby. I appreciate it." From underneath all that gruffness, I saw a twinkle in his eyes and he smiled back at me.

"Don't mention it," Bobby grunted out, watching as I undid a leather bracelet around my left wrist and threaded the pendant through it. Wrapping it back around, effectively covering the pink scar, I secured the leather binding, ensuring that it'll never be lost. Finishing my beer off and running through a quick game of blackjack, Bobby and I bid each other a good night. Bobby remained downstairs where he was sitting at his desk, reading through a large book on Zoroastrian mythology.

I had lulled Megan to sleep shortly after I had sung a few short lines of You Are My Sunshine, and with her sound asleep, her snores filled the void of the night. I laid on my back in the dark room long after midnight had rolled around. Many thoughts took the opportunity to run rampant, some good and some bad, then some really good, then again, some really bad—to the point where I was crying into the crook of my arm in order to keep from waking up my daughter. It was then, in this moment of vulnerability, I felt like an empty shell.

Maybe it was because I was afraid to go to sleep and have another round of nightmares, or maybe it was because I missed Dean and Sam. As much as I disliked celebrating my birthday, I hadn't received any calls or text messages from either of them saying 'Happy Birthday' or anything of the sort, and that hurt me a little…okay, it hurt me a lot because it was one of the first things I usually woke up to since I started living with them.

It wasn't like them at all to not call, really.

"It doesn't matter, anyhow," I muttered into the darkness of the night. "The day done came and went." I brought the heel of my palm to my eyes as I rubbed them, peering down to Megan, who had been snuggled close against me, sound asleep. I brushed my fingertips along her forehead, pushing some of her hair out of the way until I managed to lull myself to sleep.

It was sometime later, unsure of how many hours it was, that I jerked awake to being sore. My entire body was just…sore, like I'd been beaten-with-a-wooden-bat-then-thrown-in-front-of-a-passing-car kind of sore. I didn't move from my spot in the bed, not quite understanding why I was feeling like this. That was until I heard heavy footsteps, boots from the sound of it, walking along the hallway. Sitting up, I listened as they drew closer to the room. I reached for my pistol, then flicked on the lamp as the door opened.

There in the doorway stood Dean.

I let out a shocked gasp as I flipped the safety back on and set it back onto the table. He was exhausted, bruised and beaten, and here. "What-? How? I thought you and Sam-"

A glimpse of amusement flashed across his features. "Didn't have to go to New Mexico after all. Like what you did with the downstairs." I blinked a few times to ensure that I wasn't dreaming, watching as he stepped into the room, shut the door behind him slowly, and peeled his jacket off with some difficulty. "Been a while since I saw something decorated for Christmas. How's Megan been?" he grunted then blew out a pained breath, laying the jacket on the back of a chair.

"Uh, good," I replied as he worked his right shoulder a few times. I frowned out of concern, assuming that he had jacked it up again. "She's been good…fussy, but I think that's because she's tryin' to cut a tooth." Dean's brows rose, eyes flickering over to Megan's sleeping form on the bed.

"Already?" he asked, peeling off his shirt. My frown deepened seeing countless bruises, cuts and nicks, and even a few patched areas where blood was beginning to speckle on the white gauze.

I nodded. "Yeah, she's almost six months old…three if she'd been born on schedule." I lifted my shoulders in a small shrug as I looked down at our daughter. "Some babies' teeth just come in quicker than most." Dean sat on the corner of the bed, taking off his boots before he stood back up to step out of his jeans. "How was the job up in Washington?"

He shrugged. "Ghouls outnumbered us three to two, but we got it. Like always." I arched my brow at his overly cocky attitude as he turned to me with a smirk. "Sam got a black eye and a busted nose, and I got banged up.

"Meanin' you dislocated your shoulder and got a couple of stitches." Dean gave me a wry grin, making me roll my eyes. "Ya'll need to be more careful."

"Ah, that's the life of being a hunter," Dean said dismissively, returning to the bed with a pair of black ball shorts and a black shirt. "Besides," he got on the other side of Megan as careful as he could, then reached over to push away some loose hair around my face, "I couldn't miss my main squeeze's birthday."

I smiled a little at that. "Thanks, but that's been over with for hours."

His grin widened. "According to my watch it isn't." I gave him a confused look as he lifted up his wrist to show me the time on his watch. It was frozen on 11: 59 PM.

"Or, you could've just taken the battery out of your watch." Meeting his obnoxious grin, I gave him a breathy laugh as he reached out to cup the side of my face with his calloused hand and kissed me on the lips.

He drew away just a hair. "Happy birthday, dork."

"You're the dork," I replied with a giggle and kissed him again. We remained in a lip lock until I parted it for a moment. "But, thanks for rememberin'," I added.

"Don't mention it," came his cocky reply. His fingers gently moved underneath my chin as he leaned back into kiss me. My lips melted into his as we kissed each other full and deep. Breathing in his scent, I smelled the leathery concoction of his jacket, the impala, and the reminiscent scent of cheap motel soap. I didn't think I'd ever miss something as little as that, but I did.

Hearing a little yawn from between us, Dean and I broke our kiss, looking down to see Megan squinting up at us. Unsure of what was happening, she blinked again, this time opening her eyes half way as she puckered out her bottom lip, making the most heart wrenching expression I've ever seen her do to date. Dean blinked, totally bewildered by her expression, then instantly went into overprotective dad mode and scooped her up just as she started to cry.

"Hey, hey," Dean cooed as he patted her back, "I'm here, just like I told you." Megan continued to cry for a good five minutes, with Dean pacing back and forth in the room. I watched this exhausted man try to do everything in his will to calm our daughter down. "What's the matter?" I'd hear him ask her between each cry. "Did you have a bad dream?" She'd pause, looking up at him with a puckered lip then turn her head to me before starting to cry once more.

It pained Dean to see this as much as it pained me. Megan buried her head into Dean's chest, wiping her face, causing him to hold her closer to him, placing a gentle kiss against her temple. "Dad's here. I got you, princess." He glanced at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Mean old mom pissed you off, didn't she?" I let out scoff, arching my brow in a playful manner as he gave me a shit eating grin, bouncing Megan a little bit. Megan began to calm down, making a soft oooh sound. Dean let out a chuckle, peering down at her with a smile. "Yeah, oooh." He said, grinning more to the point where crinkles were becoming evident at the corners of his eyes, "Mom's bein' mean to you. You don't gotta worry about her, Dad's here."

As I remained on the bed, I couldn't help but snicker in amusement at his and Megan's interactions. He was almost child-like in a way, mimicking Megan's little oooh's and ah's, and even mimicked a scratchy little squeal, in which I about fell off the bed from cackling. It was safe to say that Megan had calmed down due to her toothless little Dean Winchester smile and little crinkles at the corners of her eyes.

My hypothesis about her was right. Straight out of his ass.

Dean looked over to me. "That reminds me, I got something for you—well, Sam and me, but you get the gist."

"What is it?" I asked, growing a little suspicious.

"C'mon, it's downstairs," he said with a jerk of his head to the door, and I arched my brow at him. Impatient as always. When I didn't budge, he rolled his eyes. "I promise it isn't something extravagant. Or blingy. Or whatever you don't like but secretly do." I failed miserably trying not to smile, in turn, made him grin as he came up to me and took me by the arm with his free hand, standing me up. "C'mon."

"Fine!" I said, seeing this beautiful being impatiently urge me out of the room like some excited child on Christmas morning. At the top of the stairs, I couldn't help but pause, sensing more than just Bobby and Sam. It was familiar. I furrowed my brows, glancing to Dean.

"Go on," he urged, holding Megan closely against him. Descending the stairs with Dean following me close behind, the entire house was alit in a soft glow from countless strings of Christmas lights.

Previously during the week, I had went on a Christmas decorating spree due to an extensive bout of boredom, in which, resulted in me lining the walls with boughs of holly, anti-Krampus and Old World Pagan god sigils (because I was weird like that), and strung up several feet of icicle lights ranging from the classic white to the normal, vintage, multi-colored bulbs (courtesy of an old dusty box up in Bobby's attic).

All of the lights were on, casting a soft glow within the house, except for the kitchen. Those were off. I stopped just outside, looking to Dean, who had remained placid. He shrugged his shoulders in an innocent manner before turning his eyes to Megan, who had been enthralled with all the different lights and stared all over the room. Curiosity and suspicion clouded me, every instinct with in me screamed not to do it because I knew not to step foot into the dark kitchen. I did it anyways, regardless of my many years of training.

Before I had time to register what was going on, the lights suddenly blinded me, causing me to jump back with a gasp when Charlie, Kara and Gavin, Sam, and Bobby came out of nowhere, practically shouting, "Happy Birthday" at me. I had my hand clamped over my mouth for a good minute or two, shrunk back against Dean. His body shook with laughter before I could muster up the strength to even speak.

When I could, tears were burning in my eyes. "Ya'll had this planned?" I asked in a light tone, looking from Dean to Sam, then to Bobby, and finally landed on Charlie and Kara.

Sam nodded, black eye and all. "Yeah, every bit of it."

"The job in Washington was real though," Dean added with a wince when Megan's fist collided with his shoulder. "Very real."

Kara grinned, coming up to me with Gavin in tow, and wrapped an arm around my middle. I hugged her back, still trying to process that everyone was here. "How?" I asked, stepping back. "I mean…I didn't sense a thing."

"I'm surprised Dean didn't blow it," Sam mused, earning a withering look from Dean.

"Dude! I told you I wouldn't!" I shook my head with a laugh at Dean's response. "And I didn't!"

Charlie let out a chortle, standing beside Bobby. "You know a magician never tells his secret, Abby-girl," Charlie said with a twinkle in his eye, then pointed to Dean. "Now, I wanna see that little firecracker that Dean has." Dean looked to Megan, almost in a pout, as Charlie met him and he handed her over. Sam took Gavin in his arms as my uncle and Kara gushed over her relentlessly, which also made Dean puff up with pride…so I guess it could be considered a puffed out pout of pride?

There was a flurry of emotions all within this room, enough to make anyone's head spin. From Charlie, I could sense pride and even remorse, causing me to knit my brows in a worried fashion as a glimpse of sadness passed over his face. "You two did good on her," Charlie said with a grin. In response, Dean smiled back at him, all too proud about Megan. "One of the most beautiful girls in this room. Put me in the mind of you when you were first born, Abigail."

Kara giggled, nudging my uncle in the side with her elbow while I felt my cheeks heat up with embarrassment, causing me to subconsciously tuck non-existent strands of hair behind my ears. Gavin flailed at Sam, squealing with excitement, which made Charlie and Kara turn, only to snigger when Gavin grabbed a fistful of Sam's hair.

"Ow! Hey!" Sam winced as Gavin jerked several times.

Dean started laughing. "Another reason to cut that hair, bro!"

"Oh, eat me," Sam shot back, grimacing after untangling my baby cousin's hand from his hair. I started to laugh at him as well, receiving a faux-pointed look from him. In lieu of his look, I grinned meekly at him.

"I can't help but laugh, Sammy. In a few short months, Megan's gonna be doin' the same," I pointed out. His look softened entirely as he finally untangled his hair. Gavin looked up at him with a chipmunk grin.

"Da!" he squealed out, beginning his tirade of slapping arms and flailing legs once more, "Da! Da! Da!" It was enough force behind them, it was actually making Sam teeter to the side. Charlie started to guffaw once more, coming up to Sam.

Charlie gestured to Gavin with his hands. "C'mon mighty man." Gavin practically swung himself to Charlie with outstretched arms. "Bout to knock over a giant, ain't ya?" he asked with a grin. Gavin then scrunched his face making the meanest expression I've seen a baby do. His nose was wrinkled, lips pursed like he'd eaten a lemon, and his eyes were narrowed, making these quick inhalations. "Oh, now you're bein' a big scary monster, ain't ya?"

Holding Megan, Kara stood beside me with a warm smile. "He's somethin'…Gavin is." I looked over to her. "Always into somethin' he ain't s'posed to be in, makin' all these faces."

"He's certainly a character," I said, seeing her nod. "Megan's beginnin' to show more emotions. Loves to smile."

"They're both happy babies," she agreed. "I almost hate to have to leave in a week or so."

"I know what you mean."

Kara tilted her head, "Ya'll never really come around anymore."

I looked at her apologetically. "We've been stickin' to the West and Northwest areas since Megan's been out. Since I've been hurt, I haven't really been out." Worry flashed through her eyes and I smiled. "Everythin's good now. I'd say in another week I'll be good as new."

"What happened?"

"Gordon Walker is what happened," I muttered, trying to keep my voice lowered in order to not catch Dean's attention. "If it weren't for Sam making him stick with us, Dean would've killed Gordon on the spot."

Kara's brows rose. "That bad?"

I nodded. "Bastard stabbed me in the leg, left the knife, and then it set up infection…so, yeah." She shook her head out of sympathy. "It was a bad lick. Had me down for two weeks." Megan gnawed on her fist thoughtfully. "Not sayin' bein' down was bad either." I grinned at my daughter, "I got to spend time with my chunk." The two of us stood together while the rest of the men were talking amongst each other. It wasn't until the sun was beginning to come up when Kara and Charlie had left to go to their hotel room in Sioux Falls, allowing Bobby to crash in his recliner, Sam had went to his accommodated room to sleep, and Dean and I had went to our room with Megan. She had long since been asleep, snoozing away like there wasn't a care in the world, allowing Dean and I to just lay in the bed underneath a mass of blankets.

For him, it was a relief to be laying down with the ability to have his arms wrapped around me tight and his head lying on my chest, half-asleep. It was a welcoming feeling that we both liked to indulge in other than just having sex. I mean, yeah, the sex is pretty great too, but it's the little things that mattered the most, especially to a man of Dean's stature. Neither of us spoke during this time. It was dead quiet. In a lulling motion, I had my arm cradled around Dean's head, running my fingers through his hair. Every so often I would curl my fingers in his hair and tug gently, eliciting a tired groan from him soon followed with slow, gentle kisses to my chest before they would cease, letting out a soft snore indicating that he had fallen asleep.

It wasn't long after him, I followed suit.

* * *

_**Six Days Later**_

_**December 26th, 2006**_

The loud hum of the torpedo heater melded in with the tempo of Never Enough by Five Finger Death Punch as it blared within my dad's old car. I tapped my foot along with the song, singing along with it under my breath as I pulled out the dipstick, running it across my fingers. Smearing the oil between my fingers, I returned back into its place, then pulled it back out to look where the oil levels were at. It didn't need to be changed, but it was just a routine thing I did out of habit. Putting it back in place, I checked the washer fluid and anti-freeze levels then felt an abrupt, cool breeze.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Dean closing the door before shivering. "You've got to be the only person I know that'd come and check on their car on Christmas Day."

I hummed at his statement, quirking my lip in an amused smile. "Just me?" I asked him as he tilted his head at my insinuation. "Fairly positive I got that habit from you, Winchester." I waggled a wrench in my hand, turning back to look under the hood. Dean fell in beside me, placing a cool hand at the small of my back as he chuckled, "'sides, I gotta keep her pristine and in shape since I never get to drive her."

Dean let out a playful scoff, "I let you drive your car." I raised a brow at him. He shifted beside me. "When we're here," he then added, taking his hand away from my back, then turned to lean against the bonnet. "Let's face it, baby cakes, me and you can't drive both of our cars."

I straightened up with raised brows, folding my arms under my chest after setting the wrench down. "And why's that?"

"'Cause mine's better. That's why," Dean teased with an infuriating smirk gracing his features.

I let out a dry laugh, wiping the grease and dirt onto a rag that hung from my back pocket. "Oh, right." I watched him knit his brows together. "You just know that my Dodge can take out your Chevy any day of the week."

This time, Dean raised his brows. "Oh, really?"

"You're damn skippy," I teased in a haughty tone, grinning.

Dean stepped closer to me until our bodies were mere inches apart bringing his fingers underneath my chin as he peered down at me through his long lashes. "Then we'll see when it warms up," he winked, his voice in a low, rumble. I smirked at him as he leaned in to kiss me, pressing his lips against mine, it was soft at first, until I moved my hands through his hair. The scent of leather, grease, and beer elated my senses, setting it on overdrive, as well as feeling the jolt of excitement radiating from Dean. Fingers gripping my hips tightly, the kiss itself turned rough and passionate as Dean pulled my body towards his. The heat from the torpedo heater had nothing like the inferno I was engulfed in, it was almost too for me to breathe. I pulled back with a gasp, staring into a pair of blazing green eyes.

There it was. That snarky little smirk that teased the corner of Dean's mouth as his tongue darted out, running it along his lips. It was a smirk that he often reserved for me on a more intimate level. Dean's hands moved from my hips to the sides of my face, allowing the pad of his thumb to drag across my bottom lip, then bowed his head in order to claim my lips once again, delving his tongue into my mouth.

"Guys, Kara's got—" We broke apart, startled to hear Sam out here.

"Dude, knock every once in a while!" Dean chided, earning a playful smack to the shoulder from me. He looked over at me with an innocent look, mouthing, what?

Standing at the door, Sam gaped slightly, bewildered for the most part, not expecting to see things get a little heated. "Oh, c'mon guys!"

Like a shy and embarrassed schoolgirl, I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, smiling sheepishly. "Go on ahead, Sammy. We're on our way," I told Sam, stepping away from Dean and started to put away some of the tools I had out. Sam shook his head, muttering something under his breath out of irritation. Dean let out an annoyed grumble, nonetheless turning back towards me and watched as I closed the hood, and finally turned off my car. However, I remained behind the wheel, feeling the prick of tears in my eyes.

Dean was in the car beside me in the matter of seconds, growing concerned. "What's wrong?"

I shook my head, "It's nothin'…it's just…" I chewed on the inside of my cheek for a moment. "Can you believe that Megan's gonna be almost six months in the matter of a few days?"

The weight of the question made it evident on Dean's face as he furrowed his brows, then shook his head. "No…not really," he admitted. "Six months?"

"Yeah," I uttered softly. "It doesn't seem that long…but it has been that long…" I couldn't finish.

"Since Dad died." Instead, Dean finished my sentence as the muscle in his jaw tightened. We sat in silence, reeling over the bittersweet realization of both Megan's birth and John's death, "Abigail." I broke my gaze from the dashboard to look at him. "I know you still think every bit of this is your fault…"

"It is," I answered.

Dean shook his head, giving me a hard look. "No it's not. Dad wouldn't have done what he did for nothing. Sam and I needed you, and Megan needed you, and…" he licked his lips, "and I think he realized that. We needed you more than we needed him." I furrowed my brows at him, growing angry. Sensing it, he added quickly. "Look at it this way, Abs. You were always there when he wasn't. When Sam needed to go to that crummy little play rehearsal or when I dumped him off at that daycare or whatever, you got him there or bailed him out. When I broke my leg on that job up in Montana, who took care of my sorry ass and listened to me gripe about it?" He nudged me in the side, causing me to roll my eyes and smile at him.

"I did," I replied seeing him nod, determined.

"Whether or not you saw it, Abs, he did." Dean swallowed down a knot. "Dad always did—even when we were too busy trying to kill each other, he knew Sam and I needed you more than him. As much as I miss him...I couldn't thank him enough for doing that."

"What about down in Oregon?" I asked, seeing a confused expression wash over him.

"What do you mean down in Oregon?" He echoed.

"Rivergrove…that Croatoan outbreak thing?" I asked, seeing his entire demeanor change right before my very eyes. "Megan needed you, and you wanted to stay behind with Sam and me. Why?"

"I don't want to talk about it…" Dean looked to me with a pained expression. I shook my head at him, feeling the stabbing pain in my chest.

I tightened my jaw at him. "You don't get to tell me that, Dean. Level with me."

He pursed his lips at me. "Because of what Dad told me."

"That's not a reason to just…roll over and give up," I scoffed out. "We have a daughter." I then smacked the steering wheel with the heels of my palms. "That means, if I die, you can't just curl up in the…fuckin' fetal position and suck your proverbial thumb or try to do somethin' stupid!" Dean's face turned a bright red. I shook my head at him with a chastising expression, "Don't you look at me like I just killed your best friend, Dean Matthew. I'm speakin' the truth, and you know I am."

"You don't understand."

Again, I let out a scoff. "I don't understand? Funny. You say I died several times."

"You did."

I glared at him. "Don't interrupt me." Dean furrowed his brows. "You say I died several times. Sam told me that you almost had a mental break because I was supposed to be brain dead and they were gonna cut me off." Dean didn't speak, only bowed his head and avert my gaze, "Then, when Sam and I got bit and infected with whatever the hell it was, you refused to leave. What. The. Hell."

"You both are better now. You're not brain dead. Leave it at that," he ground out, leaving me in my car and slammed the door as hard as he could.

"Hey!" I exclaimed. "You best not do that again."

From over his shoulder, he glared at me. "You want to know why I didn't leave you two?" he deadpanned. "I raised Sammy since he was six months old. Since our mom died. Dad was a nutcase—you know that better than I do. Sam is my responsibility, just as you are."

"Our daughter is your responsibility too! Doesn't she matter more than us?" I asked, seeing his gaze soften. "Why be that selfish when our daughter needed you?"

"Because I don't want to become the person my own dad was!" he roared out, slamming his hand down on a tool box. I stood, frozen in my place, stunned at the anger resonating from him. "Losing you and Sam would've been the end of me, and what Dad had become over mine and Sam's mom would've been nothing compared to what would've happened to me." By now his entire body was shaking, tears glittering in his eyes. "I'd rather die than see myself become anything like him. You and Sam and Megan are the reason I'm sane, or even alive for the matter. Are you satisfied with that answer, since I was being so fucking selfish?" This time, I averted my gaze to the garage floor.

So he was afraid of becoming anything like John…hell bent on revenge, borderline abusive, never around. Then John didn't want Dean to turn out like him, hence making the deal with the demon.

It all made sense. Perfect sense, actually. I felt like I was the selfish one all of a sudden. The idiot of all idiots.

"Well?" Dean demanded. "Say something!"

I looked up at him, shaking my head slowly, and brushed past him, covering my mouth to prevent a pained sound from escaping. I left Dean in the garage as I trudged through the snowy salvage yard, slipping and cursing with every icy patch I came across, and then ultimately slipped, slamming my back into the ground. I even lost my breath due to how hard I landed, which caused the dam holding back the reservoir of tears, to burst. So I laid in the snow and ice, wheezing and sobbing like a kid until Sam came rushing out of Bobby's house.

"Abs! Are you okay?" He helped me up, wide-eyed as I leaned into him, still blubbering like a kid. "What happened? Did you hurt your leg again?" I shook my head against his chest, cupping my hand over my mouth to stave off the sobs, only to have Sam keep my hand tightly in his. "Hey, it's okay, Abigail." His voice was soft and comforting, the exact opposite of Dean's.

"No, it's not," I choked out. "I'm an ass."

He looked down at me with knitted brows, confused. "What?"

"I'm an ass, Sammy," I muttered out before shivering. Then I sensed it. Anger? Exasperation?

His hands cupped around my face, staring at me with concern. "You and Dean got into a fight…didn't you?"

"I don't want to talk about it…" I said with a small shake of my head. "Not right now." I took a sharp breath. "Not on Christmas." Sam glanced towards the garage with a look of contemplation. "Don't you do it." He peered down at me, frowning. "Not today."

With a clenched jaw, he nodded, then helped me up, taking a moment to examine me. "You good?"

"Yeah…" I wiped my eyes roughly, brandishing a horrible attempt at a smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Just give me a minute."

"You okay girl?" Charlie's voice chimed in. "Seen ya take a backflip in the snow, and land horizontal." I blinked rapidly, nodding.

"Yeah, Charlie. Just…hurt my leg 's all." He pursed his lips. "It's been botherin' me real bad." With an arched brow, he looked over to Sam, who nodded for confirmation.

"Well, let's get ya back inside. You'll get sick. Again," Charlie said, gesturing to the house with a nod. "Dean still laggin' behind in the garage?"

"Think so," I answered as a blast of hot air welcomed me. Inside, Bobby's entire home was awash with delectable smells of cooked turkey and ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, and other sorts of food that went with the holidays. There was even the scent of apple pie clinging in the air. Scents that would've made my mouth water, made my stomach churn violently instead. "I think I got a concussion…" I muttered out, bringing a hand up to my head when I was allowed to sit at the table.

Charlie shook his head with an oblivious chuckle to the situation. "You are one accident prone child, Abigail."

Sam and I exchanged a glance. "I guess so." A short moment later, Dean came in through the door, brooding until he saw Charlie and Sam gathered around me. He glanced to each one of us, pausing in the doorway.

"What happened?" he asked, causing Sam to turn red around his ears and narrowed his eyes.

"She fell," he deadpanned, getting a look from his brother.

"I'm fine," I muttered, not bothering to look at Dean, and reached for a roll. Kara swatted my hand, causing me to jerk it back towards me with a frown.

"Not yet," she said. "Gotta wait till the turkey's done." Megan let out a loud squeal that sounded more like a scream from the other room. Followed by Bobby muttering something.

Dean scrunched his face at the intensity of it. "God, she's got a pair of lungs on her." Kara, hipping Gavin around, started to laugh. Then Gavin squealed. As Bobby came in, holding Megan, it was comical to see both infants interact. Gavin would clap away on Kara while Megan ooh'd and ahh'd, often stopping herself by shoving a fist into her mouth. That was the real reason everything needed to be put on hold. This was their first Christmas. Nothing hunting related, demon related, or relationship related was going to dampen it whatsoever.

Dean and Sam sat on either side of me, however, between Dean and I, I had Megan separating us. I experimented with her, getting a tiny bit of mashed potatoes and a dab of gravy on a spoon, offering her a bite. Like a Winchester, she ate it, and wanted more. I laughed, wiping off some of the excess bit, then kissed the top of her head before I took a similar bite.

The entire time, I could feel Dean's eyes on me. I never looked his way, nor did I want to. It went on like that for the remainder of the dinner, the opening of the kids' presents, and long after Kara and Charlie left. Laying Megan in her bassinet, I heard Dean enter the room, anger swirling around him. I kept my back turned to him.

"What the hell'd you tell Sam?" he demanded.

I kept my back turned. "I haven't told him anythin'."

"Yeah, I'm guessin' you did, because I had one hell of an ass-chewing from him just now," he spat out. "Said you were laying in the snow, crying."

"Yeah," I answered simply. "But I didn't say anythin'."

"Why?" I didn't answer, keeping my eyes on Megan, just…focusing on her. I didn't want to argue. That was until Dean gripped my elbow and turned me around to face him. His expression had softened, almost like he was ashamed to even hear I cried. "Why?"

"Because I'm an ass," I replied. "I acted like a fool since Dad died, blamin' myself that he did this out of bein' selfish." Dean furrowed his brows at me. "I didn't see why he did that. I only saw what I wanted to see, and hear what I wanted to hear." I shook my head at him. "Dean…don't you realize that Dad sacrificed himself so that you didn't turn out like him? It has nothin' to do with me at all. Dad did this for you."

Dean stood before me, silent. His grip on my elbow slackened until he let his hand fall to his side. Tears glittered in his eyes, causing him to look around the room before he bowed his head, and brought his hand up to his face, wiping them away. "I'm sorry," I told him, seeing him shake his head.

"Don't be," he replied after taking a deep breath, regaining his composure. Dean stepped close, wrapping his arms around me in an embrace. Resting his chin on top of my head, he took a deep breath, then pressed his lips into my hair. We remained in a silent embrace, allowing the weight of the world to once again consume us.

* * *

_**Five Days Later**_

_**January 1st, 2008**_

_**Early Morning**_

_I woke up at some point in the night, sitting up in bed. Rubbing my eyes with the heel of my palm, I turned my head to see a figure stand above the bassinet and assumed it was Dean, so I kept my eyes closed for the most part._

_"Is Megan alright?" I asked, sleep coating my voice._

_"Go back to sleep," the figure said._

_I nodded, beginning to twist my body in the bed so that I could lie on my stomach, when a mumble greeted me. "Who you talkin' to, Abs?" I froze in the position I was in, seeing Dean lying on his stomach with a pillow over his head. That familiar, gut-wrenching sense of dread swarmed my senses as I flung the covers over, reaching for my pistol o the nightstand, only to be slung out of bed and into a wall._

_Dean jerked up due to the sound of me falling, half-expecting to see me in the floor, but when he saw the figure in the room, his eyes widened. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded as the figure bent over in the bassinet, picking up Megan, who was fast asleep. "You hurt my daughter or Abigail, I swear to God—"_

_"That you'll do what, Dean?" A pair of golden-yellow eyes shone brightly in the darkness of the night. "Kill me? Very cute of you to say that, because…you're not." I struggled to move, to kill the demon as he held mine and Dean's baby in his arms. "What an interesting little thing she is…" he said to Megan, taking a finger and traced it down her face._

_"Don't-" Dean growled out, causing the demon to chuckle._

_"Don't what?" he taunted, looking to Dean. "Touch her? Oh, I'm afraid that's not the case, because…I'm holding her. Just the right age, six months. Your brother, little Sammy was that ripe and tender age when I came for him."_

_Dean's eyes widened, flickering over to me. The color was drained from his face when the demon looked over to me as well. "Oh, like what you see, Dean?" The demon merely flicked his wrist, sending me up the wall, grinning in a sadistic manner as a pained sound escaped me. I looked down to my stomach, seeing red spread out across my abdomen. Then, I stared down from on top of the ceiling, tears falling freely from my eyes. I had never seen Dean as petrified as he was. There wasn't an ounce of breath in his body, watching on, helpless._

_"Dean, run!" I whimpered out, seeing him remain in place. "Please, Dean…just go!"_

_The demon chuckled as I writhed in pain above them. "Like father, like son, Dean. My, how the chain of events come right back to you, and end with your little angel." His lips stretched over his teeth in a sneer. "You know the saying, Dean, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em." Dean mustered up the strength and looked to him, a murderous glare in his eyes. "I'll take good care of your little girl."_

_"I'll kill you!" he roared out, making the move to lunge, only to be thrown back against the wall. "You son of a bitch! I'll kill you! You hear me?!" The demon grinned, lifting his free hand and snapped them. Dean's eyes flew up to me as a blast of flames engulfed the ceiling—engulfing me._

_I screamed in agony._

_"Abigail, no!" Dean yelled out frantically. "No!"_

_I couldn't move. I only felt the heat from the flames as they licked and burned my flesh._

"Abigail, wake up!" Dean's panicked voice cut through. "Wake up!" I sobbed, feeling him pull me against him. He was shaking. "C'mon, wake up, Abs." Realizing that I was in the room and that Dean was okay (and that I wasn't on the ceiling burning) I forced myself to calm down, although my body was retaliating by trembling. It allowed me to finally look up at Dean, who appeared to be deeply distressed. His face was ashen, eyes were red like he'd been crying.

"Where's Megan?" I asked.

"In the bassinet," he confirmed, pressing his forehead against the side of my head.

"Don't tell me you had the same nightmare I did," I whispered out.

"You were on the ceiling…" Dean managed to say. "I saw it…the demon. He-he was gonna take her…" I closed my eyes once again, burying my face in his chest. Dean's arms remained around me as he, too, buried his face in my hair as his shoulders shook. "I couldn't do anything. I couldn't save you or Megan," he whispered brokenly into my ear. "What the hell is goin' on?"

"I don't know."

* * *

**A/N: Oh my word, I'm so sorry about how late this is (yet again). I really intended this chapter to be out in no time, but like I said, things happened, and in the words of Chuck, "Writing is hard". ****I'm also two classes away from being done with college, so I've been putting forth a lot of my time into it as well as deer and squirrel season. ****I hope school is going great for my readers who still attend, I got faith that ya'll finish out good and strong, given that there are seven to eight months left of the school year! **

****So, what'd ya'll think about this chapter?! I'm eager to read ya'll's thoughts and reactions! This _is_ an Original Chapter/AU, it is not within the canon itself, but rather, between the timeline of the previous chapter and _Playthings_. I'm sure getting _Playthings _out will be _much_ faster than this one was, and I hope that I do get it out!****

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****Like always, I want to thank _Ladysunshine6_ for being there for me. I've been having some serious problems with my depression, and I even thought about quitting this altogether due to it, and she was the one to pull me back up and dust me off! So, a _huge_ thank you to her!****

****Also, I'd like to thank _SkyQueen1111_ for beta-reading this chapter! I can't thank her enough for helping me out! She's absolutely the best!****

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**I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise.**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me or you can get a hold of me via Tumblr! I love receiving fan-mail for all three!**

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**Song for this Chapter: _Counting Bodies Like Sheep _****by _A Perfect Circle_** **(Simply because of the ending, I thought it suited it.)**

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_**Ladysunshine6- **_**Ugh! I know! I'm _so_ glad that she's finally home! I really appreciate the kind words! Thank you!**

_**grapejuice101- **_**Thank you dearie! That means a lot to hear that! So glad you liked it!**

_**angelicedg- **_** Possibly! It could definitely mean a lot of things for the four of them! **

_**sarahmichellegellarfan1- **_**Thank you! I think it would be off and on if they did leave her behind because for the most part, she'd be with them. Revert back to _Usual Suspects_ where Abigail's identity is still unknown, she's practically dead. This is going to play an important part in _Night__shifter_. I hate that you feel that you're depressed. I'd definitely find someone to talk to about it, depression isn't anything to be ashamed of having. For me, it's definitely a hurdle that feels like it's two feet high one day, and then the next, be the size of Everest. **

_**ebonywarrior85- **_**Awe, thank you, love! I appreciate it! (:**

_**Mayrem- **_**Thank you so much for your review! This was something I definitely needed to read! I'm so happy to hear that you like the story! I hope that you enjoy this chapter! (:**


	16. Playthings

**_WARNING: _**_There will be smut in this chapter. If you do not like that kind of thing, then please, just skip! It's not long. _

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**_January 5_****_th_****_, 2007_**

**_Motel Room—Day_**

**_Peoria, Illinois_**

Being back on the job kicked off into full swing as the three of us went into search mode for Sam's acquaintance, Ava. Blues music played on the radio as the wall plastered with maps, hand-written notes, a MISSING poster with Ava's face melded in with a Pack-N-Play and baby clothes. Things being linked to these 'special children' and the Yellow-Eyed Demon went onto overdrive, especially with Sam, since the holidays had come and gone and I was moving around a lot better. Dean and I never told him about our mutual nightmare. I didn't think that it would be brought to the light anytime soon given the circumstances, and the fact that we had no idea what it meant.

Returning from our food run, Dean and I walked into our motel room seeing Sam sit in front of his laptop with several papers strewn out in front of him with his cell phone glued to his ear. He glanced over in our direction. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Ellen," Sam concluded.

"What'd she have to say?" Dean asked as Sam turned to look at us with a dejected expression.

"Oh, she's got nothing," he informed us. "Me, I've been checking every database I can think of — federal, state, and local." Sam's shaggy hair fell into his eyes as he shook his head, "No one's heard anything about Ava, she just . . .into thin air, you know?"

"Huh," Dean hummed as he set down Megan, nodding sullenly at Sam. I handed him a cup of coffee while Dean unbuckled Megan, picking up her tiny form. "C'mon, princess. I'm bustin' you out of this thing."

Sam looked from me to Dean, hopeful. "What about you guys?"

I offered him an apologetic look, squeezing his arm in a tender manner. "No, same as before. I'm sorry, Sammy." Wordless, he nodded, the hope of any information on Ava's whereabouts diminishing. I gave Dean a disheartened glance, seeing him shrug at me with a mutual gaze as he held our daughter.

"Ellen did have one thing," Sam added, causing the both of us to look at him. "A hotel in Cornwall, Connecticut. Two freak accidents in the past three weeks."

"Yeah? What's that have to do with Ava?" Dean asked, glancing down at his phone as he and Megan moved towards the bed, shrugging his jacket off awkwardly.

Sam shrugged. "It's a job. I mean, a lady drowned in the bathtub; then a few days ago a guy falls down the stairs, head turns a complete one-eighty."

"Eck," I grimaced, taking a seat across the table from him as he nodded in agreement. "That ain't exactly normal."

"Exactly," Sam continued. "Look, I don't know, Dean, it might be nothing, but I told Ellen we'd think about checking it out."

Megan squirmed against Dean as he looked up at Sam. "You did?"

"Yeah," Sam replied. "You seem surprised."

"Well yeah, it's just, you know…" His voice faltered when Megan squirmed once again, making him catch his breath.

"Not the patented Sam Winchester way, he's tryin' to say," I finished, catching the corner of Sam's lips twitch.

"What way is that?" Sam inquired.

Dean shrugged once he laid Megan down on a clean blanket of hers. "I just figured after Ava there'd be, uh, you know, more angst and droopy music and staring out the rainy windows, and—" Sam gave him a pointed glare all the while I swung my fingers horizontally across my neck, signaling for Dean to shut up. "_Yeah_," he said slowly, glancing from Sam to me. "I'll shut up now."

Sam let out a heavy sigh as he stood up and paced. "Look guys, I'm the one who told her to go back home. Now her fiancé's dead and some demon has taken her off to God knows where. You know?"

"Sammy, it ain't your fault," I said, offering him a soft smile. "We've been lookin' for Ava for the better part of a month—even when we were at Bobby's—and we've got nothin'." Sam regarded Dean and I with a defeated expression, lowering himself on the bed across from Dean and I's. "Look, I've not met the girl, but I sure as hell ain't givin' up on her." As if my words instantly worked its magic and brightened up Sam's disheartened demeanor, he nodded a little more enthusiastically.

"Right," Sam agreed with a smile in my direction. "I'm not going to let other people die either." His eyes drifted to Dean. "We've got to save as many people as we can."

Dean raised his brows at Sam's words. "Wow. That attitude from the two of you is just _way _too healthy for me, and I'm officially uncomfortable now." He nodded to Sam and I, "So, thank you, wonder nerds." I pursed my lips at him, wadding up a piece of paper and throwing it at him. Dean lifted his arm, easily deflecting it as a rare, Dean Winchester smile appeared; one that hadn't shown itself in a few days.

From his bed, Sam ducked his head and snickered at us both, alleviated that we were all in a playful mood considering Megan was passed out. Dean glanced to her, seeing that she hadn't wiggled, then waved Sam on dismissively, "Alright, call Ellen. Tell her we'll take it."

* * *

The drive to Pierpont Inn in Cornwall, Connecticut had been an interesting ride considering the fact that we had Megan with us. Dean drove noticeably slower than what was considered normal. His road rage grew when it came to 'some jackass' cutting in front of him even though they didn't, or that someone was getting too close to the rear of the Impala. There was also diaper changing stops, feeding stops, and hissy fit stops. Judging by the smug and amused grins from Sam, our only bet was that Dean was just being overly overprotective and a total worry wart; which wasn't much of a bad thing right now…but it might be in fifteen and a half years.

Parking the Impala in front of the inn, the three of us stepped out, taking in the sight of this haunted establishment. Bundling Megan inside my jacket, I looked around the misty layout, the pavement beneath our feet was damp from the mist clinging in the air.

"Dude, this is sweet," Dean commented as he checked out the building, the one with several 'freak' deaths going on. "I never get to work jobs like this."

"Like what?" came Sam's question as we rounded to the back, lifting the trunk lid up.

"Old school haunted houses," I answered with an amused grin as Dean shouldered his duffel bag, then pulled Megan's Pack-N-Play out. I shouldered mine and Megan's duffel, turning to look at the building, "I have to admit, this is pretty badass."

Dean grinned. "Fog, and secret passageways ... sissy British accents," he continued as Sam gave us both a soured look.

"Reckon we might even run into Fred and Daphne while we're inside?" I nudged Sam in the side as Dean closed his eyes for a beat, a salacious smile spreading across his face.

"Mmm, Daphne. Love her." I scoffed at his remark, poking him in the side as he chuckled, resuming his goofy old self. Sam shook his head at our antics, having a good-natured chuckle for once as he followed behind us, walking up the steps. Sensing that Sam had found something interesting, I paused.

"I'm not so sure haunted's the problem." Sam said, catching Dean's attention.

He turned on the step, "What do you mean?"

I took a few, careful steps back down to where Sam was at with Megan held close against me, seeing the urn. Sam glanced to me. "You see this pattern here?" he tapped a five-point symbol engraved in the urn itself.

"That's a quincunx," I murmured. "A five-spot."

Dean looked between Sam and I, any sense of humor was gone. "_Five-spot_."

Sam nodded, "Yeah."

"That's used for hoodoo spellwork, isn't it?" he asked, coming down the steps a bit before he paused above us.

I shifted Megan, who had started to squirm. "Yeah. You fill this thing with bloodweed and you've got a powerful charm to ward off enemies," I explained, seeing my fiancé look around for a minute.

"Except, I don't see any bloodweed."

Something was telling me that this wasn't hoodoo. My gut churned and twisted with unease. "Don't you think this place is a little too whitemeat for hoodoo?" I asked, looking to both men as Sam and Dean shrugged. "I mean…hoodoo is mainly in the Deep South. New Orleans for example." I shook my head with a scrunched face upon meeting a cautious look from Dean, who had remembered that job in New Orleans very well. "I've never really heard of it comin' up this far North."

"I dunno, maybe," Sam conceded, not quite ready to give up his theory about the bloodweed just yet.

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I want to look inside of this thing," Dean said, gesturing to the Victorian styled doors. I glanced down to the quincunx for a moment, entranced by the designs and five-spot on it.

"Y'all go ahead, I'll catch up in a minute." I glanced back up to see Dean's hesitation, "Go, I'll be fine with Megan for a minute." His eyes flitted to the urn, then back up to me with extreme caution residing underneath. Dean knew what I was going to do, then, ever so reluctant, he nodded. I watched as he and Sam climbed up the steps again, vanishing behind the door. Peering into my jacket, seeing my daughter gaze up at me from beneath her oversized beanie. I smiled down at her and kissed her forehead. "Momma wants to see somethin', bear with me for a second."

Cautiously, I reached my hand out, allowing my fingers to brush against the quincunx. I let out a pained gasp, placing all of my weight against the urn, holding Megan close.

_I looked over to the playground that was between the Inn and what looked to be a swimming area. There were two little girls dressed in early 1920s attire, hands clasped together and laughing. They were singing an age old nursery rhyme, Ring Around the Rosie._ _As they danced around in a circle, I couldn't help but feel uneasy. The two girls broke their circle, falling backwards until the playground was soon water._

I found it very hard to breathe, coughing harshly as I gripped the edge of the potting urn tightly. Megan was crying, clearly upset, or cold. Unnerved, I stared at the playground and the building beside it, before I climbed up the steps, only to walk in on a woman talking to Sam and Dean.

"Oh, you just look the type," the woman said as I came through the second set of doors, seeing Dean look vaguely uncomfortable. "So, uh, king-sized bed?" I clamped my mouth shut, only to fail horribly at containing a laugh.

"What? No." Sam stammered, getting red in the face as he tried to think of a way to say that they weren't a 'thing'. Embarrassment rolled off of him as bewilderment came off of Dean and I fell in between them.

"Hey you," I greeted Dean, causing him to turn with a look of utmost relief.

"Hey you, back," he replied, tipping his head down to kiss me on the lips, signifying to the woman at the desk that we were a couple. I really intended the kiss to be just a short and sweet peck, but Dean managed to capture my chin with a couple of fingers and prolonged the kiss until it became dizzying. Since the mutual nightmare, things between us had been more or less _physical_ if one would get what I'm saying. Kisses where more pronounced, mere touches lingered, and an absence didn't go unnoticed, even if it were a minute. There was a cough, reminding the both of us that we were in public. I broke it quickly, blushing like a schoolgirl as Sam gave us both a look of disapproval.

"We just need two rooms," Sam said, seeing the woman's face turn red too.

"Oh. _Oh_, I'm so sorry," she said quickly, glancing from Sam to Dean.

"What'd you mean that we look the type?" Dean asked her, an arm wrapping around my waist as the woman gaped at him, appearing to do a really good fish impersonation.

I smiled understandingly to the woman. "You know, speakin' of antiques, you have really, _really_ interestin' urn out on the front porch." She blinked. "Where'd you get that?"

"Oh, I have no idea, it's been there forever," she said, handing Dean a key. "Here you go, Mr. Mahagov, you'll be in 237."

Dean grinned, "Thanks."

Then she handed Sam a room key, "And your room is 236."

Dean then rolled his eyes at that. "Oh _yay_." I poked him in the side, smiling at his exasperated expression. Apparently he had other plans. Susan rung the bell on the counter just as Megan squirmed within my jacket, letting out a cry. She was getting too hot. I unzipped my jacket, letting her stretch her legs out. Susan gasped, becoming enthralled at our daughter.

"Oh, she's just precious!" she said in a soft tone.

I grinned, "Thanks."

"How old is she?" Susan asked, looking up at me.

"Six months." Dean replied with a smile tugging at his lips.

"She's so tiny!" She said in a hushed tone.

My smile faded somewhat. "Yeah…she was born thirteen weeks early. We were in a bad wreck." Susan covered her mouth.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said quickly.

I shook my head, "It's alright. She's doin' good now."

An old, balding man in a black blazer shuffled up behind Dean, looking to Susan expectantly, Susan smiled to him. "Sherwin, could you show these people to their rooms?" she asked.

Sherwin looked to Dean and Sam. "Let me guess—antiquers?" Sam's nod answered his question as the old man picked up Dean's, Sam's, and my duffels, along with the folded up Pack-N-Play. Dean and the Pack-N-Play clunked behind Sherwin up the steps as we followed behind him.

"I could give you a hand with that bag, or two," Dean offered, eyeing the bags cautiously.

"I got it," Sherwin insisted.

Dean rose his hands as he backed off. "Okay."

"So the hotel's closing up, huh?" Sam asked, changing the subject.

Sherwin gave us a sharp nod. "Yep. Miss Susan tried to make a go of it, but the guests just don't come like they used to. Still, it's a damn shame."

"Oh yeah?" I urged, shifting Megan a little after I took a step.

"It may not look it anymore, but this place was a palace," Sherwin said. "Two different vice-presidents laid their heads on our pillows. My parents worked here, I practically grew up here." We came to a landing, walking down a hallway. "Gonna miss it," he said, stopping at a room, 236. "Here's your room," he said as he slipped a key in the lock and opened the door, handing it to Sam. Sherwin didn't have to tell Dean and I about our room, since it was right beside Sam's.

As Sam entered the room and tossed his duffel bag onto his bed, I stepped in to look at the interior. It was a simple, vintage room—something I was fond of actually. The walls were wooden with old paintings and pictures decorating them. Glancing over my shoulder, I realized that Dean remained at the door a little while longer, Sherwin standing with his hand extended expectantly. I snapped my fingers at Sam, catching his attention, then gestured to watch them, fully amused.

"You're not gonna ... cheap out on me, are you, boy?" Sherwin nodded to me. "What would your wife think?"

Dean glanced back to me with an annoyed look, then pulled out his wallet. I covered my mouth to prevent myself from snickering while Sam bit his lips. Megan let out a loud sigh that sounded like a big _Oh_, causing me and Sam to start laughing. Upon closing the door, Dean turned with a sour look on his face, shucking off his jacket and tossed it haphazardly onto Sam's bed.

* * *

Thirty minutes had passed as Sam and I sifted through papers, news articles, and crime scene photos while Dean paced around the room with Megan. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Dean Winchester was not a creature of patience. In fact, if one were to look up impatient, his picture would be right there, because he's the embodiment of impatience. Every pass he'd make by the table we sat at, I couldn't help but roll my eyes at him and turn my attention back onto the file I had open.

"What the—." I looked up from the crime scene photos of the victims as Dean approached what appeared to be an antique wedding dress displayed on a wall like a ghost.

"What?" I asked, glancing to the dress curiously.

Dean gestured to the dress. "That's normal. Why the hell would anyone stay here?" he asked in a sarcastic manner. "I'm amazed they kept in business this long." From beside me, Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. He picked up the papers, handing a set of them to me.

"Alright." Sam started reading off reports. "Victim number one: Joan Edison, forty three years old, a realtor handling the sale of the hotel." Dean turned and sat down on Sam's bed, jumping slightly as the bed gave way from under his and Megan's weight.

"And victim number two was Larry Williams, movin' some stuff out to Goodwill," I said

"Well, there's a connection: they're both tied up in shutting the place down," Dean pointed out.

Sam nodded, "Yeah. Maybe somebody here doesn't want to leave, and they're using hoodoo to fight back."

"Who do you think our witch doctor is, that Susan lady?" I shook my head at Dean's assumption.

"No, doesn't seem likely. I mean, she _is_ the one sellin' the place," I pointed out, seeing Dean tilt his head.

"So what then, Sherwin?"

Sam's shoulders rose in a shrug, "I don't know." Then Megan let out another loud sigh that sounded vaguely like a loud _Oh_.

Dean chuckled at her, "That's right, princess. We don't know either." Like the flip of a switch, Dean then made a sour face at our daughter. "Of course, the most troubling question is: why do these people assume we're gay?"

"Well, you are kinda butch," I said nonchalant, setting down a paper before picking another one up to skim over it. "Probably think you're overcompensatin'." That was when I glanced up at him with a shit-eating grin, seeing him look at me unimpressed. Sam, on the other hand, laughed until he was teary eyed.

Dean pursed his lips at that, holding Megan against him as he let out a mocking laugh, "Right." I got up, nudging his foot.

"Quit bein' such a sourpuss, Dean. You'd jump on it as soon as it would be towards me." I said, seeing a glint in his eyes that confirmed it.

With a tilt of his head, the corner of his mouth tipped up in a smirk, then he finally nodded, "Yeah."

Shortly after, the three and a half of us started poking around the hallways to see what we could find. It turned out that we didn't have to go far until we saw another urn sitting on a table. I picked it up, scanning the metal object closely, then tilted it towards a light source.

"Huh. Would ya look at that?" I murmured, tapping a similar sight. It was has a quincunx inscribed on the inside. From over my shoulders, Sam and Dean looked.

"More hoodoo," Sam murmured. We approached a door marked, _Private_, and Dean knocked. Susan opened the door, looking at the three of us a little confused.

"Hi there," Dean greeted her.

She smiled, "Hi. Everything okay with your room?"

Sam and Dean started talking over each other. "Yeah. Yeah, yeah, everything's great. Yeah." There was a moment of silence that hung in the air between the four of us.

_Awkward_.

"Well, I was, I was just in the middle of packing," Susan said, gesturing over her shoulder. Being the nosey thing he was, Dean peered over her shoulder, spotting a collection of dolls.

"Hey! Are those antique dolls? Because this one," he nodded to Sam. "This one here, he's got a major doll collection back home." Sam turned to Dean, appalled, as he grinned. "Dontcha? Huh?"

"Big time," he replied.

"Big time," Dean continued. "You think he could come — or we could come in and take a look?"

Susan gave us all a guarded look. "I don't know ..."

This time, I stepped in. "Please? I mean, he loves them. Since I had Megan, he's been goin' plum crazy over her." Sam's eyes widened even further. Dean had to turn away to keep from breaking composure. I leaned in. "He's not gonna tell you this, but he's—he's always dressin' 'em up in these cute little tiny outfits and, um, you'd make his day."

"You — she would, huh? Huh?" Dean added with a grin after he turned back around.

Sam looked like he was about to be sick, when in all reality, he was just severely embarrassed. "It's true," he said weakly.

Susan then smiled to us, "Okay. Come on in."

Dean and I grinned. "Alright. Alright!" Dean slapped Sam on the back, who in turn, shot us both a death glare. We followed him in. Stepping into the room, I instantly didn't like being in there. Megan didn't know what to think as she lifted her head, staring. She looked like a bobble-head with its tongue sticking out, before she laid her head back down on my chest.

"Wow," I said, looking around to the wall lined with antique, porcelain dolls. Beside me, Dean peered at each one with an uncomfortable expression as Sam moved around the room.

"This is a lot of dolls," Dean commented. "I mean, they're nice, you know." His eyes flitted back to Susan. "Not super creepy at all."

I nudged him in the side. "Dean," I chided in a hushed tone.

Susan let out a soft laugh, gazing around the room. "Yeah, I suppose they are a little creepy," she conceded. "But they've been in the family forever—a lot of sentimental value."

Sam walked over to what looked like an exact replica of the hotel. "What is this? The hotel?"

Susan nodded, "Yeah, that's right. Exact replica, custom built." While Dean examined more of the creepy dolls, I watched from the corner of my eye as Sam leaned down and picked up something, causing me to turn towards him as he held up a broken doll.

"His head got twisted around. What happened to it?" Sam asked.

"Tyler, probably," Susan answered shortly, shrugging her shoulders as a little girl dressed in a deep, navy blue dress ran out from a room behind Dean and I. We turned to see her look up at her mom with large, puppy dog eyes.

"Mommy!" I frowned, realizing that she was one of the little girls from my vision or flashback or whatever it was I saw. "Maggie's being mean."

"Tyler, tell her I said to be nice, okay?" her mother told her, and she nodded. So, Maggie was the other girl I saw, I mused to myself, looking around for any signs of another little girl.

"Hey Tyler," Sam said, allowing me to focus back on him. "I see you broke your doll. You want me to fix it?"

"I didn't break it. I found it like that," Tyler replied with confidence. I rose my brows, patting Megan on the back when she whimpered. Tyler turned upon hearing her, and lit up.

I smiled to her, "Oh. Well, uh, maybe Maggie did it?"

She shook her head with an adamant expression. "No, neither of us did it," she said, "Grandma would get mad if we broke 'em."

Susan placed her hand on Tyler's back. "Tyler, she wouldn't get mad."

Dean's brows rose. "_Grandma?_"

Tyler looked up to Dean, nodding. "Grandma Rose. These were all her toys."

"Oh. Really." He looked down to a doll in particular, placing his hand on my waist. "Where's Grandma Rose now?"

"Up in her room," Tyler replied. I could sense her upstairs, but something about her was off, like she had a health issue. A debilitating stroke.

"You know, I'd-I'd uh, I'd really love to talk to Rose about her incredible doll —"

"No," Susan cut Sam off, causing all three of us to blink, stunned at how quick she was to stop Sam. "I mean, I'm afraid that's impossible. My mother's been very sick and she's not taking any visitors."

I smiled sympathetically. "Oh, we're very sorry to hear that, aren't we, honey?"

Dean nodded, "Oh. Oh, yeah. Deeply sorry."

Tyler came up to me, more or less, wanting to see Megan. "Can I hold her?" she asked. Dean and I exchanged a glance.

"Tyler, don't bother with these people's baby," Susan said, causing her to turn around.

"But mom, she's so tiny! She's like a real-life doll!" She protested. "Please?"

"Um…perhaps another time," Susan said.

"It's fine, really. We don't mind," I said, seeing the conflict in Susan's eyes. Our stay in this room was already at the end when she pursed her lips. "We'll be around, Tyler. If it's okay with your mom, you and Maggie can come by the room and visit with her." Tyler's eyes lit up and she smiled.

"Can we mommy?"

Susan glanced to us, and smiled at her daughter. "Maybe sometime," she answered.

Dean smiled uneasily at the thought, "Well, uh…we're sorry to bother you. Send our regards to Grandma Rose."

Susan nodded. "I will."

Making our exit, we walked in a tight huddle, ensuring to keep our voices at a bare minimum.

"Well, what do you think?" Dean asked, glancing to the both of us. "Dolls, hoodoo, mysterious shut-in grandma?"

"Well, dolls are used in all kinds of voodoo and hoodoo," Sam explained, "like curses, and binding spells, and ..."

"Yeah, maybe we've found our witch doctor," Dean cut in. "Alright, I'll see what I can go dig up on boomin' Granny. You and Abs go get online, check old obits, freak accidents, that sort of thing, see if she's whacked anybody before."

Sam nodded, "Right." We stopped in front of his room

"Don't go surfing porn, Sam—that's not the kind of whacking I mean." Dean said, smirking. "Abs, make sure he doesn't do anything you wouldn't do." I laughed, as he stopped briefly to look at Sam, who gave him the infamous bitch face. With a grin, he turned back to me and pressed his lips against mine, then kissed the top of Megan's head. "Watch your mom and Uncle Sam while I'm gone, you hear me?" Megan chewed on her fist, and gave him a slobbery smile. Sam and I turned back to head to his room while Dean left.

* * *

A few hours had passed while Sam and I searched the internet for any form of odd obituaries or freak accidents at this place before. Megan had just got to sleep, lying in the middle of Sam's bed with a barrier of pillows to keep her from rolling off. Despite Sam and I splitting a few drinks, I started to get antsy. As in, my spidey-senses were beginning to tingle.

I stood up, running my hand around my throat. Sam noticed, knitting his brows. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I said, grimacing. "It's just…my neck's hurtin' 's all."

"You're not getting sick are you?" he asked, setting down his pen. I shook my head, grimacing as the pain got worse, as in, a pulled muscle had nothing on it. The color drained out of my face as a wave of heat washed over me. I stumbled near the dresser, putting a hand on it to steady myself. Sam rose to his feet quickly, stumbling due to another reason. "Abigail. Jeez. You need to go to the doctor."

"No…" I gritted out. "No, doctors." There was an audible pop from my neck that took my breath away. My legs gave out from under me as Sam caught me. The pain that was in my neck was excruciating. I couldn't even breathe, just let out loud, sickening gasps.

"Abigail! Hey, hey." Sam placed a hand on my face, "C'mon, let me get you on a bed." I gripped his arm tightly, shaking my head 'no'. I didn't understand what was going on, and quite frankly, it was freaking me out. For five minutes, we remained in the floor, half-drunk and half-too scared to move until I felt the pain ebb away and I could breathe normally.

Slowly, Sam helped me sit up, eyes wide with alarm. "What the hell just happened?"

Shaken, I shook my head slowly. "I-I don't know, Sammy."

"Should I…should I call, Dean?" He slurred. For a moment, I couldn't speak. I weighed my options, then finally shook my head at him. I could tell Dean later despite the bad feeling I had. "Good, 'cause he's bossy."

"What?" I asked.

"Dean's bossy," he grinned at me, "You're not."

I arched my brow. "Uh, Sam?"

My brother gave me an adorably, goofy grin. "Yeah, Abby?"

"How much have you had to drink?" I asked.

He lifted his shoulders in a careless shrug. "I dunno. More than you, which is an achievement." Sam was literally a big, drunk puppy at this point. He grinned at me. "I wanna go do somethin'."

"_Like_, what?" I asked. "We can't do anythin'—," Before I could finish my sentence, Sam grabbed me by the face and crashed his lips on mine, slipping his tongue into my mouth. It took me a minute to register what had happened. I jerked back with wide eyes, wiping away at my mouth, then met Sam's puppy dog look before it had turned into horror.

"Oh my god, Abby…" he slurred out. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean to."

I blinked a few times, unsure of what to say at the moment. All I knew was that, Sam, Dean's little brother, whom I thought of as my own brother, just kissed me. And this giant of a man was literally having a panic attack on the floor in front of me. Regaining my composure, I patted him on the shoulder, then stood up. "C'mon, Columbo."

"You're not mad?" he asked. I shook my head.

"Stunned, but not mad," I said slowly. "Let's get you to bed, and I'll get you a glass of water." Sam nodded with great emphasis as I helped him up. He snickered, allowing himself to sit in a chair, "How'd you manage to drink more than me anyways?"

Sam grinned. "Dunno, _but I did_." I shook my head, laughing lightly at how childish he was. There was a scream sounded from the hallway, alerting us both. Sam tried to stand up, only for me to put a hand on his chest, stopping him.

"Stay," I ordered, moving from where Sam was at, over to the door where I saw a maid fly downstairs, speaking rapidly. All I got out of the entire conversation was that someone had hung themselves in a room. I swallowed hard, putting my hand to my throat.

_That's _why I felt like that. Closing the door, I turned to Sam.

"What?" he asked.

"Someone hung themselves," I said, keeping my hand on my throat. "I'm callin' Dean." Sam knitted his brows, looking deeply upset. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my cellphone, and frowned. "Well, I guess I'm not," I snapped it shut. "No service. Shit." I tapped the antenna against my lips. "Are you good to stay in here by yourself?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, why?"

"I'm gonna take Megan and find out what happened," I said. "Don't get anymore drunk than what y'are, a'ight?" Sam's head bobbed. This entire thing overall was deeply upsetting. Moving over to the bed, I picked up the pink floral baby wrap and tied it around my body rather quick like, then picked up Megan, situating her within the wrap, "I'll be back in a little bit, Sam." Again, he nodded, allowing me to slip out of the room and down the hallway. I didn't have a clue when Dean was supposed to get back. With what happened between what I felt prior to the discovery of the body and the incident with Sam being drunk off his ass, there was a little bit of a discussion that needed to happen.

I wandered around the hotel, searching for someone to get information from, like Susan, or Tyler, or Sherwin.

"Hello," I paused. Turning around to see a little girl standing behind me. She was around the same size as Tyler, wore a deep, garnet red dress and had curly, ash blonde hair.

"Uh, hi," I greeted her back. "You must be Maggie."

Maggie smiled. "Yup! That's me!"

"Um, Maggie, do you know what happened?" I asked. "I just saw an ambulance outside."

She shook her head. "No, I don't know. I just know that there's a lot of mean people trying to get rid of all of the toys here."

I smiled sympathetically at her. "Is that so?" I asked.

Maggie nodded. "Yeah. Tyler and me don't like it."

"Well, maybe your mom might buy you guys new ones, to replace the old ones."

She made a weird face, shaking her head. "I don't want any new toys, I like the ones we have." Her eyes drifted up to Megan, letting out a delighted gasp. "Oh! You have a baby!"

I nodded. "Yes, I do."

"Can I see her?" She asked, eagerly. I moved the wrap away just a hair so Maggie could see Megan. The little girl looked so excited, her hands working at her side like she wanted to hold her. "She's so small! I've never saw a baby so little." Her eyes went to me. "I have a lot of dolls that's her size."

"Yeah, I saw them. You've got a beautiful collection." I said, seeing her beam. There was a thump, catching my attention, and I looked in the direction of it. As soon as I turned back around, Maggie was gone. I furrowed my brows, smelling a distinct odor, like…ozone? I shook my head. "It couldn't be…"

"Abs?" I spun around at the sound of my name being called to see Dean coming up the stair.

"Hey," I said. "Did you find anythin' out?"

He shook his head, "Nothing. But some guy just hung himself in his room."

I nodded, "Yeah, we know. I tried callin' you, but we don't have service up here." Dean frowned, taking out his phone and saw for himself. We started walking back to Sam's room, and I stopped him.

"What?"

"We kinda have an issue," I said in a hushed tone. Dean furrowed his brows, growing concerned. "Before anyone knew that this guy hung himself…I kinda had an episode."

"An…episode," he echoed. "What kind of episode?"

I ran my hand over Megan's head. "I felt that exact moment when he died." Dean stared at me, shocked. "I mean, my neck popped and everythin'…I couldn't breathe."

"You're okay now?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine now…but uh…Sam." His eyes went to the slightly opened door to his room. "He ain't hurt or anythin'…it's just…he, uh…you know."

"No, I don't know," he stated with a smile. "What'd he do? Get on porn?"

"_No_," I hissed. "He…kissed me."

Dean scoffed. "That's nothing new, Abs. He kisses you all the time."

"Not on the mouth," I deadpanned.

Dean raised his brows. "Come again? Kissed you on the mouth?" I nodded as he ran a hand down his mouth. "Maybe he just overshot."

I shook my head at him, "_No_." If his brows could've risen any higher, they could've been flags.

"Did he just…you know…peck?" he asked, tapping his lips with his fingertips. Again, I shook my head. "Oh. So, uh…tongue." I nodded, causing him to move towards the door. "I'm gonna ask him, but I'm gonna find out what you two found out, first." Before I could answer he walked in.

"There's been another one," Dean said first off the bat. "Some guy just hung himself in his room." I stood near the door, seeing Sam slumped over in a chair. I frowned. He had long passed drunk, hopping straight into shit faced.

"Yeah, we saw," he said darkly, motioning sloppily to where I stood at the door.

"We've gotta figure this out, and fast." Dean glanced up at me. "What'd you two find out about Granny?"

Sam shrugged, "You're the boss." Dean turned, looking at him in surprise. I pulled a surprised look as well, not fully expecting the amount of sass from Sam.

"What?" Dean asked, throwing me a bewildered glance.

Sam laughed sloppily, "You're bossy. And short."

"Are you drunk?" Dean turned to me. "How much did you let him drink?"

"Well…that's the thing," I said. "We—"

"Yeah. So?" Sam flung his arms up, then shrugged sloppily. "_Stupid_."

Dean looked around the room to see several empty bottles. "What the hell are you two thinking?" he said hotly. "We're working a case. Abigail, you have the baby!"

"I didn't drink that much, you know that," I hissed at him. "He just…had a little bit too much." His eyes narrowed at me. "I was goin' to get him some water, I didn't realize he'd drink the rest of it!" Dean shook his head, rubbing his face in a rough manner.

"That guy who hung himself. I couldn't save him," Sam slurred out, looking up to Dean with tears in his eyes. Dean and I exchanged a glance.

"What are you talkin' about?" I asked Sam. "We didn't know."

Dean nodded, "You couldn't have done anything."

"That's an excuse, guys. I should have found a way to save him. I should have saved Ava too." He swallowed hard. "Abigail went through what that guy did…I should've known."

Dean approached Sam. "Yeah, well, you can't save everyone. Even you said that."

Sam then slammed the table. "No, Dean, you don't understand, alright?" I jumped at the suddenness. "The more people I save, the more I can change!"

"Change what?" I asked, coming to stand by Dean as Sam looked up to me and Megan.

He leaned forward, tapping his chest. "My destiny!" Dean rolled his eyes at Sam. I frowned, growing deeply upset over Sam's drunk, yet anguished expression. He was completely heartbroken.

"Alright. Time for bed. Come on, Sasquatch." Dean leaned over and hauled Sam up by the shoulders. "Come on," he urged as I went to the bed to sling the pillows back to the head of it.

"I need you and Abigail to watch out for me," he slurred out.

"Yeah. We always do," Dean replied.

"No! No, no, no. You have to watch out for me, alright?" Sam struggled out of Dean's grasp, teetering precariously in front of us. "And if I ever ... turn into something that I'm not…" His eyes focused on Dean and I both, "you have to kill me."

Dean turned his head, dismissing what he had just said. "Sam."

Sam then shoved Dean in order for him to look. "Dean! Dad told you to do it, you have to."

"Yeah, well, Dad's an ass," I said uneasily, holding Megan closely. She started to cry, causing Sam to frown deeply. "He never should have said anythin' like that."

"I mean, you don't do that," Dean added. "You don't-you don't lay that kind of crap on your kids."

"No. He was right to say it!" Sam argued, pointing to nothing in particular. "Who knows what I might become? Even now, everyone around me dies!" He shook his head. "I don't want to hurt anyone, Dean. I can't." He focused on me and Megan. "I don't want to hurt you, Abigail. Or Megan."

"Yeah, well, I'm not dyin', okay?" I reassured him, sending Dean a look.

"Right. And neither are you," Dean said, grabbing Sam by the shirt. "Come on. Sam." He pushed Sam onto the bed in an attempt to get his brother to simply lie down and sleep off his drunken self, but Sam sat up, reaching up and clutching at Dean's jacket. I had to move around, shushing Megan in a soothing manner in order to keep either one from seeing that I, too, was crying.

"No, please! Dean, you guys are the only ones who can do it," he pleaded, then turned his head in search of me. "Abigail, promise me!"

Dean looked over his shoulder to see tears glittering in my eyes. I had my lips pressed against Megan's head, shaking my head. "Don't ask that of me," I said softly.

"Dean, Abigail, _please_. You have to promise me," Sam begged, still holding onto Dean's jacket. I looked to Dean, who looked back. This entire conversation was grim, and disheartening to say the least. I approached Sam, who had let go of Dean's jacket as I brushed his hair away from his eyes. Those big, brown eyes of his bored holes into me. In front of me, he was still that goofy, lanky twelve year old that was there for me when my parents died. I stared at him for a long time, feeling my heart break even further, and I finally nodded as a stray tear rolled down my face.

"Yeah…I promise," I whispered, hearing Dean let out a sigh from beside me. "We promise."

Sam stared up at me, then to Dean. "Thanks." He reached up and grabbed Dean's face with both hands. "Thank you. You are ..."

Dean batted Sam's hands away from his face and shoved him back on the bed. "Alright. Come on." This time Sam fell back.

As he turned onto his stomach, he gazed back up to Dean like a little kid who was about to be scolded. "I'm sorry I kissed Abigail," he slurred out. "Please don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, Sam," Dean told him. "Go to sleep." Sam did as he was told, planting his face in the pillow, then wrapped his arms around it. Dean rubbed a hand down his face. I didn't have to look into his eyes to see the self-loathing and pain he was enduring. In one smooth motion, Dean was up and out of the room. I put a water bottle and a couple of aspirins on the nightstand beside the bed. Sam was in for one hell of a rude awakening tomorrow.

* * *

Closing the door behind me, I quickly caught up with Dean in our own room. "Dean." He didn't stop as I put Megan in her Pack-N-Play's bassinet before moving towards him. "Hey!" I snapped as I got closer to him, grabbing his arm. He turned, anger etched across the features of his face.

"What the hell was that?" he snapped.

"_Excuse _me?" I scoffed out. "What was what?"

"You promising to kill Sam! Is that somethin you really want to do?" I stared at him with a look of pure disbelief. "'Cause I'll be _damned _to kill my own brother."

I shook my head at him. "Dean, I'm not gonna kill 'im either, but I sure as hell ain't gonna let him be a six foot four blubberin' mess!" Dean rolled his eyes, turning his back to me, "You know what I said, I didn't mean."

Dean was silent for a beat. "Yeah…I know," he replied from over his shoulder. "It's just…I wasn't thinking, Abs. This entire thing has got me messed up."

I folded my arms. "Yeah, it's becoming a force of habit as of late."

"What are we gonna do?" he asked, turning around with an anguished look.

I shrugged, "We do nothin'. We already told him what he needed to hear—he's pacified for the time bein'." Dean scrunched his face at me. "We already know what's goin' on up in that hard head of his, and it's nothin' but turmoil. He's scared." His eyes cast down to the hardwood floor as another round of self-loathing and pain tore away at him. "Dean, it's not your fault. We're gonna figure out what's goin' on…what everythin' means."

"Are we, Abigail?" he questioned.

I nodded, feeling pretty confident about my words. "Yeah, of course. We were raised by some of the best. Granted, their parentin' abilities have some questionin', but regardless…they were the best."

Dean nodded, sighing as he went to go sit on the bed. From there, he leaned forward, resting his head in his hands for a moment before I joined him. "Remember when things were simple?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, curious.

He lifted his head. "I mean, when it was just you, me, Sam, and Dad and we would just be out doin' what we do best. I mean, yeah, we argued and fought like a bunch of cats and dogs, but…it was just… _simple_."

I leaned my body into his, resting a hand on his thigh. "As much as I would like to go back to much simpler times, we can't. We have hurdles that are given to us…and that's life, a never-endin' cycle of hurdles; although, some are bigger than others." Dean shifted beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "If we can help Sam, then we'll do it or die tryin'."

"I second that," Dean acknowledged.

"Another thing…" I began, staring straight at an old painting of a mill. "That nightmare." Dread caused my skin to prickle, feeling the muscles in Dean's body tense.

"What about it?" he asked.

"Do you plan on talkin' about it? Or do we pretend it never happened?" I asked, casting my eyes up to his. There was a deep frown marring his features.

"I don't even know where to begin, Abs," Dean admitted. "I mean…sure, I get blips of someone being pinned to the ceiling but…_nothing_ compares to that. When I woke up, you were screaming, and-and I only thought the worst had happened." He shook his head, tilting it back to look up at the ceiling. "Abigail, I'm not gonna let that bastard hurt you or the baby. I'll die trying to protect the both of you."

I offered him a knowing smile. "I know you will, there's nothin' in this world that wouldn't lead me to think anything different."

"So…"

"_So?_" I echoed, growing confused.

"Who kisses better?" Dean asked, turning his head to look at me, and I shoved him to the side with a scoff.

"Really?" I deadpanned, seeing him lift his shoulder up in a shrug.

"Yes, really! This is a serious question! I need to know if I got competition or not."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Oh, my sweet, baby Jesus," I muttered, shaking my head. "If it makes you feel better, you have no competition…" Dean nodded, looking quite confident with himself. "_Although_, Sam may need a do-over considerin' he was shit-faced and it was sloppy." Dean pursed his lips, looking almost horrified.

He shook his head. "_Oh_, no. No, no, no. Sam got his freebie." I started to laugh, lying back onto the bed with my arms above my head.

"Why, Mr. Winchester, I never thought you to be the jealous type," I taunted, seeing him twist in his spot with an arched brow.

"Oh, honey. I'm all kinds of jealous and nine kinds of crazy. You just haven't seen them all," he quipped.

"Oh, okay," I tested. "I believe I saw you do about five kinds of jealous in one night when we went to that bar in Walla Walla."

Dean let out a scoff. "I had a right to be jealous. There was four or five different men hanging off of you." I flashed him a grin, making a point.

"Then," I said, counting on another finger, "there was that time when we were huntin' a werewolf, and you basically went overkill—"

"Because the mangy mutt nearly ate you alive," he finished. "Plus, the douche deserved it." This time, he laid back, turning his head to look at me as my grin widened. "Then, there was that time when that jock slammed your hand in a hood at that car shop class you forced us to take, broke your hand and you were on the bench for almost two months."

"I never saw you that mad before, aside from when we're on a job," I mused.

Dean's eyes met mine with utmost sincerity. "Trust me, human or monster, if they hurt you, Sam, or Megan, or _anyone_ for the matter; they're answerin' to me. Especially some jackass who thinks he's untouchable." His lips turned up in a smug grin. "Boy, was he wrong."

"Never thought I'd see six teachers and the principle get their asses handed to 'em as well as that kid," I added, hearing a throaty chuckle escape from Dean. "I realized, ninety-nine percent of the time, we were _always_ in some kind of trouble."

Dean scoffed, "_We?_ Oh, no, _you_ got us in trouble. It was my ass getting you out of it."

"Perhaps, but lookin' back at it, I wouldn't change it for nothin'," I said, seeing the tempered expression on his face. "Would you?"

"Can't say I'd want to either," he said in a light tone.

I rolled onto my stomach and crossed my feet. "Remember when we skipped school to go fishin'?"

Dean nodded, "Yup. It was the same day I got the ass to kiss you for the first time." Like a shy schoolgirl, I blushed, turning my gaze to the quilt beneath us. "Then the second time was when I took you back to that crappy motel in Poughkeepsie—which was a bad lick for dad."

I frowned, remembering that job all too well. I shook my head to rid myself of that night. "What about that time we were in Wyoming?" I asked.

He put an arm underneath his head, looking up at me quizzically. "Which time?"

"Cheyenne," I replied, sensing a heart-warming sensation flood all around me. A soft, loving smile came across Dean's face at the memory. It was one of his fondest, and well-remembered times being on a hunt.

"How could I forget?" he asked, reaching out to brush away a few strands of rouge hair. "The first hunt Dad ever let us do by ourselves, and the first time we ever had sex. We should go back sometime, see the sites…hell, Yellowstone is a few hours' drive from there."

"Why yeah," I said. "I also remember you bein' awfully nervous."

"I was not," he protested. "I was the master of keeping my cool."

"You couldn't get your shirt off," I teased, seeing his face turn bright red with embarrassment.

"Jeez. You mess up one time and it gets thrown back in your face," he muttered, while grinning from ear to ear.

I giggled, "Well, then, Mr. Winchester, why don't you redeem yourself and have a do-over?"

Dean sat up. "Is that so?" I bit my lip, grinning salaciously at him and nodded slowly. "Well, then, Miss. Colt, your wish is my command." Before I could move, Dean had flipped me onto my back, and started tickling me. I let out a shrill squeal, clapping my hand over my mouth to muffle my laughing. Inhaling, I writhed underneath him as his hands went up and down my sides.

"Oh my god, Dean!" I hissed out. "You're gonna wake up the baby!"

"Then we'll just have to take that chance, won't we?" he murmured with a grin, snaking his hands around my wrists and pinned them to the bed. I wrapped a leg around his waist, pulling him a closer against me. "We can start slow," he said, taking a hand off my wrist, and trailed his fingertips up my side, dragging my shirt up a short ways that left goosebumps rise in their wake, "and let build it up."

"Sounds good," I murmured, shivering and feeling heat swell between my legs as he bowed his head, capturing my lips with his. It was a flirty kiss. One that elicited a giggle from me when he pulled back. Seeming pleased with himself, Dean then proceeded to kiss the tip of my nose, then my forehead, and then planted a sultry kiss along my neck. I reached down to the hem of his shirts, lifting them above his head. Sitting back on his haunches, he took them off, slinging them to the ground, and resumed kissing the sensitive flesh of my neck. In turn, I dragged my nails along his back, causing a low, rumbling groan to pass through his mouth, a shiver racking through his body.

Hooking his fingers under the hem of my shirt, he pulled it up, allowing him to pull it off of me, tossing it carelessly onto the floor with his own. His fingers then fluttered up my arms, ghosting across my shoulders and chest. This time, I shivered, when his fingers hooked the straps to my bra, sliding the straps down until it was easy to slide off, exposing my breasts. Much similar to our first time, his once quaking hand made quick work of the lacy material, and grazed his thumbs against my nipples, the nubs hardening under his touch. His touch became rougher on my breasts, cupping them in his palm, squeezing them slightly before he leaned his head down.

A loud, breathy gasp escaped me upon feeling his mouth engulf my nipple, sucking it relentlessly. Smoldering, green eyes peered up at me as he smirked from around me. An obscene popping sound resounded as he pulled away, causing me to let out a small whimper. Flicking his tongue against the hard nub, he then moved to the other breast, giving it the same treatment. Again, I writhed underneath him, raking my nails up his back until I ran them along his scalp and took a fist full of his hair.

Our breathing had become ragged, palpitated bursts. Relenting on my breasts, Dean reached down to unbuckle his belt while I unbuttoned my pants, the both of us stripped out of them, leaving us both naked. His fingers had wrapped around himself, stroking his hardened cock in a slow, up and down motion a couple of times before he climbed on top of me. Once again, he began kissing from the tip of my nose, down my neck, chest, and stomach before he hesitated at my hips. "Jesus…" I murmured, looking down at Dean through hooded eyes.

By now, his touch had turned more intimate, directing his fingers between my legs, and barely dipped them into my entrance to get them wet. My body jerked with electricity as he planted another set of hot kisses onto my hips, then flattened himself on the mattress as his kisses trailed down my thigh, and finally at the apex of my lady parts where he let his tongue lick at my entrance. My hands landed on his head once again, pulling at the roots of his hair as I directed him against me, harder. There was a haughty chuckle coming from him. "Easy there, tiger."

"Screw slow build," I mumbled. "You're killin' me."

Dean hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps…Is that a bad thing?" he asked, lapping away before piercing me with his tongue once again.

"No!" I whimpered out, slamming my head into the pillows as the pleasure built up within me. I shut my eyes tightly, feeling my body go rigid when I finally hit my peak. My mouth hung open in a silent scream, then my body went lax as the sensations ebbed away. I lifted my head after a few seconds passed, exchanging mischievous smiles with him as he sat up on his haunches. His dick twitched in an interesting way as I reached down, wrapping my fingers around its girth. Dean's groan was simply sinful as I began to pump him fast, slicking the head with what moisture had built up at the slit.

Mouth agape, Dean's eyes went hooded, bucking his hips a couple of times before I directed him towards my entrance, allowing half of cock to enter. Biting back another groan, he grasped the back of my head, crashing his lips onto mine and moved forward until he was buried deep inside; a complete opposite of how cautious and nervous he was. A thing that I loved about him, is that he still treated me that same way, even though at some point, he could deliver the most mind-blowing sex anyone could ever imagine. However, despite the tender kiss his placed on my lips, it was a sharp contrast when his hips began to move against mine. It was rough and animalistic, his pelvis slapping against mine before hiking my leg over his shoulder.

There were moments where we had to freeze due to Megan making a noise or whimpering. She would go back to sleep shortly after making them, allowing Dean to start back in the same manner we stopped. Moans and the sound of skin smacking against skin filled the room with an occasional curse escaping from his mouth, while his name left mine. Spiraling back up to the zenith of pleasure, Dean shivered, and began moving his hips faster. The metal bed frame screaked and slammed against the wall in a quick, even tempo, the both of us not even caring if anyone was going to hear it.

Halfway through my release, Dean let out a harsh breath, his hips jerking sloppily as pleasure overwhelmed him. Wrapping my arms around him, I buried my face into the crook of his neck as the both of us came down from our high. Panting, Dean rolled off of me, then gathered me in his arms even though we were both glistening with sweat. "So," Dean said, beginning to catch his breath, "have I redeemed myself?"

I gazed up at him with admiration, fumbling with the brass amulet that hung from his neck. "I believe you did."

He chuckled, running his fingers through my hair a few times, then cupped the side of my face, kissing me tenderly on the lips. "Good," he replied with a Cheshire cat smile spreading across his face. It wasn't five minutes when Megan started to cry, beginning with a soft, warbling whimper then it went to a full blown scream. Dean and I sat up, frowning at her cries, "Hang on there, princess," Dean said, rolling out of bed. It didn't take him long to pull his underwear and jeans back on, remaining shirtless as he padded over to the bassinet, and picked her up. "She hungry?" he asked, turning to me with a confused look.

"Probably," I mused, rolling out of bed as well, but padded over to mine and Megan's duffle bag. I pulled out a pair of gray lounge pants, a white sports bra, a white camisole, and finally a white sweatshirt that tended to hang off my shoulder. Putting them on in record time, I fished out her formula and a bottle of water. Dean came up to me, holding her against his chest, and watched me make her bottle. "She probably needs her diaper changed, too."

Dean nodded. "You wanna do that?"

I arched my brow at him, mixing the bottle. "Really?" Dean smiled wryly, knowing good and well that he was perfectly capable of doing it himself. "Nope. You can do it. I wanna see your skills."

He frowned, looking a tad bit scared. "What if she poops or something?"

"Of course she's gonna poop, why wouldn't she poop?" I asked. I dug out a diaper and her wipes, handing them to him. He was so uneasy, since you know, I did the majority of the diaper changing. I held the bottle in front of her face, allowing her eyes to fixate on it. "You know what this is, don't ya, baby girl?" She puckered out her bottom lip. "Let your daddy change ya first."

"Abs, let her eat," he chided.

"Dean, change her butt or she's gonna blister," I retorted in the same manner as he pursed his lips.

Relenting, Dean rolled his eyes and took her to the bed where he laid her down, and unbuttoned her onesie. He gagged, covering his nose with his bare arm. "Oh, God," he groaned out. "Abs, she's pooped!"

I flicked my hand at him. "Go on big boy, you'll be fine."

He grimaced, "Oh, _c'mon_." I crossed my arms at him, laughing as he started to gag "Really?" Undoing the clasps to Megan's diaper, he pulled it back, only to put it back up on her, "Oh…oh, God." He looked down to Megan with a disgusted look. "You've definitely gotten that from your Uncle Sam." I watched as he fought with the wipes for a minute, allowing me to cover my mouth with three fingers, snickering away. This was _way_ too much fun for me. One of the most fearsome hunters around was brought down to his knees over a poopy diaper.

"Alright. Got it," he said, holding Megan up for my inspection.

I shook my head with a smug smile, "Not hardly." Dean's brows knitted out of confusion, "You have her diaper backwards. See?"

Dean looked at the odd looking diaper before he realized. "I so don't got this," he muttered, laying Megan down. I leaned down and kissed him on the cheek.

"You will in due time," I said with an encouraging smile, "Watch." I undid her diaper, holding Megan by her ankles, and fixed it. "The big part covers her butt while the little part comes up front. Like panties."

He nodded, "Okay. I'll remember that." I smiled at him, handing over the bottle, watching as she wasted no time sucking it down. We were quiet for a moment before Dean looked up at me with a suggestive grin. "Since she's havin' her a drink, you wanna go downstairs and accompany me for one?"

I offered him a flirtatious smile. "Why, Mr. Winchester, I'd be delighted to accompany you, but it'd have to be somethin' non-alcoholic since I'm supervisin' this little girl." Dean grinned as he let me take over holding Megan's bottle, and fished his shirt from the floor. We then went down to the antique (and very empty) bar where Sherwin stood, cleaning glasses. He looked up at us as we sat down, Megan fixating on the ambient lighting behind Sherwin.

"Find any good antiques?" the old man asked us.

Dean appeared to be caught off-guard when he was asked, but suddenly remembered. "Um, no! No, we, uh, got distracted." A whisper of a smile flashed over his lips, sending me a secretive look.

Sherwin apparently caught the look, smirking as he pulled out three glasses. "Young couple like you? I don't see any reason why you shouldn't." Judging by how red Dean's ears turned and the smugness I sensed from him, he wasn't sorry. "Have a drink."

"Yeah, thanks," He chuckled as Sherwin poured a glass of whiskey for himself and Dean, then set out a can of Dr. Pepper.

"For the lady."

I smiled at him, "Thanks."

"Not a problem." Sherwin lifted his glass, taking a sip of the liquor.

"So, uh, poor guy, huh? Killing himself?" Dean said, striking up a conversation.

"That kind of thing seems to be going around lately," Sherwin commented.

Dean nodded, "Yeah, yeah, I heard about the other ones. It's almost like this hotel is, uh, cursed or something."

"Every hotel has its spilled blood. If people only knew what's gone on in some of those rooms they've checked into…" Sherwin let his sentence hang in the air.

"You know a lot about the place, don't you?" I asked, situating Megan on my lap when she began to wiggle a little bit.

Sherwin smiled at us, pride oozing from him as he took a sip of his drink. "Down to the last nail," he answered.

"We'd love to hear some stories," Dean said, gesturing his hand to himself and me in an attempt to elicit some kind of information from him.

"Boy, you should never say that to an old man." The three of us shared a laugh as we finished our drinks. Setting the glasses down, Sherwin gestured for us to follow him, "Come on." He led us up a wide staircase, showing us old, framed photographs that hung along the walls, "This is little Miss Susan, and her mother Rose. Happier days," he recollected in a somber tone.

"They're not happy now?" I asked, glancing over to see Dean holding Megan rather close as we paused.

"Well, would you be, leaving the only home you ever knew?" Sherwin asked us rhetorically.

"I don't know. I never really knew one," Dean admitted.

"Same," I agreed, remembering the charred remains of my old home back in West Virginia.

"Well, this is Rose's home," Sherwin explained. "It's been in the family over a century. Used to be the family estate. And now she gets to live in some senior living graveyard, and they tear this place down."

"Yeah, that's too bad," Dean murmured as we began to descend the stairs.

I kept my hand on the railing. "I hear Rose isn't feelin' well."

"No, she isn't," Sherwin affirmed.

"What's wrong with her?" Dean inquired, half-expecting the old man to open up.

Instead, we got the exact opposite. "It's not my business to say."

"Oh," Dean nodded, stopping at a photo of two toddlers. "Who's this?"

Sherwin picked up a yellowed photograph of a girl sitting on a chair with a young black woman. Inspecting the photo further, I noticed that the woman has a quincunx necklace. "That's Rose, when she was a little girl." He pointed to the girl.

I nodded to the young woman in the picture, flitting my eyes to Sherwin, "Who's that with her?"

"That's her nanny, Marie," Sherwin answered knowledgably. "She looked after Rose more than her own mother." My eyes met Dean's concerned expression. That would explain the quincunx and the hoodoo. It started making sense now.

* * *

The following morning, I woke up feeling absolutely horrible for Sam being hungover. Dean, however, found my plight to be quite hilarious. He, Megan, and I entered Sam's room. Our guess was that he was kneeling in front of the porcelain throne, absolutely miserable at the moment.

Dean grinned as he leaned against the wall next to the closed bathroom door. "How you feeling, Sammy?" he asked loudly as we heard a pitiful groan from inside.

I situated Megan in my arms. "I guess mixin' whiskey and Jäger wasn't such a gangbuster idea, was it?" Sam didn't speak for a moment as Dean and I exchanged a hopeful glance.

"I'll bet you don't remember a thing from last night, do you?" Dean asked with a twinge of hopefulness in his voice.

"No," Sam replied, then groaned when his body lurched in another quell of rebellion. "I can still taste the tequila."

Dean and I shared a relieved (although his was more mischievous) smile. Dean sat on the edge of the bed. "You know, there's a really good hangover remedy—it's a, it's a greasy pork sandwich served up in a dirty ashtray."

Again, we heard Sam heave loudly. I scrunched my face in disgust, feeling my stomach flip flop. "I hate you," he replied.

Dean's face held an arrogant expression. "Yeah, we know you do," he said with a chuckle. "Turns out when Grandma Rose was a tyke, she had a Creole nanny who wore a hoodoo necklace." Dean's smug expression disappeared, forming into one of repugnance as he made a noise in the back of his throat.

"So you guys think she taught Rose hoodoo?" Sam asked. Seeing the look on Dean's face, I wasn't going anywhere near the bathroom.

Dean fanned his hand around his face, "Yes I do."

"Alright." As Sam opened the door, Dean moved away when he stumbled out. "I think it's time we talked to Rose, then."

This time, _I_ smelled what Dean was smelling. I grimaced from where I sat with Megan as Dean stared at his brother, being a victim of the odor resonating from him. "Oh. You can brush your teeth first," he said.

"And shower," I added, seeing Sam's confused expression. _Poor kid._

When Sam retreated back into the bathroom with a change of clothes, Dean and I stood out in the hallway waiting on him. Dean's face still held a revolted guise. "I'm not gonna be able to get that smell out of my nose." He brought a hand up, scrubbing his nose roughly. "It's forever seared into my sinuses."

"Leave Sam alone," I said in a playful tone. "I believe you've had a few instances where you were layin' on the bathroom floor."

Dean grimaced, knowing that memory all too well. "That was not a fun morning, let me tell you," he replied.

I scoffed at him, running my hand down Megan's back in a soothing manner. "Yeah, tell that to the one who had to bathe you three times."

This time, Dean closed his eyes and hummed with a complacent smirk. "That made that morning ten times better." I rolled my eyes at him as he ran his fingertips along my arms. "I had a hot girl strip me down and bathe me. What's _not_ good about that? That's every guy's dream."

"Then I guess you live the dream," I said, seeing him return the smile.

"I guess I am," he agreed in a soft voice, gazing down to Megan. I could feel his heart swell with unfathomable love and pride. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Ten minutes passed before Sam emerged from his room fully dressed and not odorous. We made our way down the hallway, heading towards the room marked '_Private'_. Sam knocked as we held our breath, hoping that Susan wasn't going to answer the door. "Hello? Susan?" Dean and I looked around furtively. "Clear?"

We nodded, "Mm-hmm." Sam kneeled before us, picking the lock. I came to know that two things were for certain. One, those dolls were creepy as hell the first time, and even creepier the second time around. Two, there was definitely something off. It was cold, _much_ colder than what a room should be, especially if it were inhabited. Megan began whimpering, causing both of the boys to look at her.

I frowned deeply at the tone of her whimpers, sensing her unease. I shook my head, "Guys, I'm gonna have to go. Megan doesn't like it in here at all." Dean and Sam gave me an understanding nod. "I'll stand lookout or somethin', but as far as bein' in here…I'm a liability."

"Alright," Dean said. "Call if you see Susan coming in here." I bit my lip, nodding then exited the room. To be honest, I was deeply upset that I couldn't be of any help to the boys, but my daughter's safety was more important.

* * *

**_Dean's Point of View_**

**_Playroom—Day_**

Watching Abigail leave with Megan, I turned to Sam, nodding to the door in the back. We moved towards it to find that it was open, leading us through a dimly lit staircase. As we moved along upstairs, we wound up at the end of another hallway, with a small room with a door that was ajar. In all honesty, my gut was twisting with anticipation as to who or what we were going to encounter. My bet was on something hoodoo related.

With our guards up, Sam and I entered a fairly regular looking room, which was a total surprise to what I was expecting, and judging by Sam's confused glance to me, he was thinking the same thing. In front of us sat the old woman in a wheelchair, facing the rain covered window.

Cautiously, we made our approach. "Mrs. Thompson?" Sam asked in a low voice. There was no response from the old bat. "Mrs. Thompson?" Sam asked again, rounding in front of her to see her trembling, staring at nothing. "Rose? Hi, Mrs. Thompson, we're not here to hurt you, it's okay —," I glanced to Sam when he drew his brows together, growing concerned when she wasn't responding to anything he was saying, "Rose?" I glanced away for a second, swearing that I had heard a door open. "Dean." I looked back to see Sam straightening up, gesturing me to follow him. "This woman's had a stroke."

"Yeah, but hoodoo's hands-on," I pointed out. "I mean, you've got to mix herbs, and chant, and build an altar."

Sam nodded, "Yeah. So it can't be Rose." I ran a hand down my face, licking my lips. "Hey, maybe it's not even hoodoo."

"Or she could be faking," I pointed out.

Sam narrowed his eyes at me. "Yeah, what are you gonna do, poke her with a stick?" I nodded, seeing my brother's eyes widen. "Dude! You're not gonna poke her with a stick!" Sam's eyes went behind me, his face blanching. "Dean-"

"What the hell?! What are you doing in here?" Susan's voice cut Sam off. We started making excuses, lame ones at that as she rushed over to Rose's wheelchair. "Look at her, she's scared out of her wits." She looked to us with narrowed eyes. "I want the three of you out of my hotel in two minutes or I'm calling the cops."

We left without hesitation, meeting Abigail's worried expression outside of the creepy playroom. "I tried to text you two!" she hissed. "What the hell?"

"We gotta get out of here," I said, seeing her worried look turn into concern, or that of being dumbfounded. "Susan caught us up there with Rose. She's gonna call the cops if we're not out of here in two minutes."

Carrying Megan, Abigail shook her head at us both. "_Idjits_," she muttered. "Are your phones on silent or somethin?" We paused outside the rooms, glancing as we took out our phones. Both of them were dead. Which was odd, considering that they had been fully charged with little to no battery drainage. We looked up to Abigail with confused expressions only to meet an apprehensive gaze.

"What?" I asked, seeing her shake her head.

"We can't leave," she said.

"Abs, I told you what she's gonna do—." Then I realized what was going on. Abigail held herself in a different way. She was anxious. The way her eyes scanned our surroundings, searching for the littlest of evidence told me that her spidey senses where tingling.

"Look, we just have to play the part of us leavin'," she muttered. "Sammy, get your stuff and we'll meet you at the car." Sam nodded, entering his room. Inside our room, Abigail and I worked quickly with our stuff, since the only thing that needed focused on was Megan's things.

I shoved some of our clothes into one duffel. "Mind tellin' me what's got you on high alert?"

Abigail held Megan closer to her chest. "…I had a premonition." I raised my brows at her words. "Somethin' bad's about to happen."

"Like what?" I asked, growing concerned. "Is something gonna happen to us or what?"

She shrugged, "I don't know. It wasn't exactly a premonition…I just saw bits and pieces."

I let the duffel bag hit the bed. "So, you're telling me that you don't know when something's about to happen?"

"I just know it's supposed to happen today…I don't know _when_," she elaborated with a pinched look. "I know patience isn't your strong suit, but bear with me. This is gonna save a life or two. I just know I don't want Megan around when it hits."

Loading everything up in the car, the three of us piled in. By this time, Megan had begun screaming at the top of her lungs, in which, neither Sam nor me knew why. Abigail looked equally perplexed about it as she made a bottle in record time. Pulling away from the Inn, it was not even a minute before Megan had spit her bottle out, screaming.

"What's wrong with her?" I asked, glancing up in the rearview mirror. Abigail shook her head, appearing to be deeply troubled by Megan's fussiness.

"I have no idea," Abigail admitted. "It's just…_she _feels scared about somethin'…I don't know." Abigail knitted her brows, then placed her hand against her head, shaking it. Her face twisted with pain, causing me to stop the Impala before her pained look was replaced with fear, "We gotta get to Susan, _now_."

Sam scrambled out, rushing towards the front of the inn as I followed behind him; Abigail staying behind with Megan. Being right behind Sam, I watched as he tackled Susan to the ground, out of the way when a car came straight for her. This wasn't hoodoo.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

Susan looked visibly shaken by this, appearing to look like a deer caught in headlights. "I think so."

"Come on, come on. Let's get inside, let's go," I urged, looking in the direction of the car, then let out a loud whistle. Sam cringed at the shrillness, seeing Abigail carry Megan in her arm. The four of us made it inside the inn.

"Whiskey," Susan told us as we entered the bar, sitting her down at a table.

Sam nodded, "Sure. I know the feeling."

"What the hell happened out there?" the woman questioned, looking to each of us for an answer.

From behind the bar, Sam looked up to me, then glanced to Abigail, who had turned to her. "You want the truth?"

"Of course," she replied.

"Well, at first we thought it was some sort of hoodoo curse, but that out there…" I explained.

"That was definitely a spirit," Abigail finished as Susan's eyes widened.

Sam came out from behind the counter, handing Susan a glass of whiskey. "Here."

"You're insane," she informed us, earning a breathy laugh from Abigail as she ran a hand through her hair.

"Yeah, it's been said," I quipped. Shit like that didn't bother me or Abigail. It was like a bad joke you'd hear a thousand times in one night—funny the first time, but annoying as hell the nine hundred and ninety-nine times after. Susan held her glass of whiskey in her hands, glancing to Megan, almost in disbelief.

"Look, I'm sorry, Susan," Sam broke the tension. "We don't exactly have time to ease you into this, but we need to know when your mother had the stroke."

Susan glanced between the three of us. "What does that have to do with any—"

"Just answer the question," Abigail cut in.

Susan let out a shaky breath, "About a month ago."

Abigail's eyes flickered over to Sam, who was nodding. "Right before the killings began," he murmured.

Abigail looked to me, "So what if Rose _was_ workin' hoodoo, but not to hurt anyone, but to protect them?"

So I was wrong. "She was using the five spot urns to ward off the spirit."

Sam then nodded, "Right, until she had a stroke and she couldn't anymore."

Susan then shook her head at our…insanity-driven conversation, as those who live apple-pie lives, would assume. "I don't believe this."

"Listen, sister, that car didn't try to run you down by itself, okay?" Abigail quirked her brow at me. "I mean, I guess it did, technically, but, but the spirit can — forget it."

"Look, believe what you want," Sam interrupted me. "But the fact is you and your family are in danger, alright?"

"So you need to clear everybody out of here; your employees, your mother, your daughters, everyone," Abigail cut in, then frowned when Susan gave her a weird look.

"Um, I only have one daughter," she said.

Abigail blinked, "_One_?" Her face twisted into a look of abhorrence, paling at a thought. I shifted, beginning to feel the pressure of this situation.

"I thought Tyler had a sister named Maggie," I said.

Susan looked over to Sam. "Maggie's imaginary," she replied.

Sam swallowed hard. "Where's Tyler now?" he asked in a calm voice.

Rather than answering the question, Susan got up and ran towards the private area of the motel with Abigail, Sam, and I following close behind until we reached the playroom. "Tyler!" she called out. Upon entering, Abigail froze. The entire room was trashed; the floor was littered with broken dolls, sending Susan into a panic. "Oh my god. Tyler," she breathed out, running out of the room. "Tyler!" Susan reappeared back into the room. "She's not here!"

Abigail reached out, taking Susan's hand in hers. "Susan. Tell us what you know about Maggie."

Susan shook her head. "Uh, not much," she said shakily. "Um, Tyler's been talking about her since Mom got sick."

Sam nodded, urging her to continue. "Okay, did you ever know anyone by that name?"

"Uh, no . . ." Susan stuttered out.

"Think, think, I mean, somebody that could have lived here, might have passed away?" I questioned, growing increasingly frustrated when Susan shook her head until she suddenly stopped, looking directly to Abigail.

"Oh my god," she breathed out. "My mom. My mom had a sister named Margaret. She barely spoke about her."

"Did Margaret happen to die here when she was a kid?" Abigail asked her, just as Megan started to whine.

"She drowned in the pool."

"Come on," I told them, heading out the door with the rest of them following, hearing a door slam from behind. Susan, Sam and I came out from the gardens to the pool house. We found that the door was locked tight. Sam and I then started to pound at the glass with our elbows, trying to break it as Susan shrieked at the top of her lungs.

"Tyler!"

"Mommy!" Tyler's voice cried out, shortly following it was a scream. My blood ran cold as I stopped, looking around for Abigail. She could've been behind, obviously being slower than the rest of us due to Megan.

"Is there another entrance?" I asked.

"Around back," Susan answered, pressing her hand to her mouth.

I nodded, "Alright, let's go." I looked to Sam. "Keep working, and let me know when Abs shows up." Sam nodded, slamming his shoulder against the door as Susan and I ran around the building. Approaching the back door, I stopped Susan. "Stand back." Relenting, I front-kicked the door, twice, but it hardly budges. "Son of a bitch!" I cursed out, then started front-kicking the door again. I didn't stop until it burst open, rushing in with Susan to meet Sam as he got out of the pool, soaking wet.

Frozen, I watched as Sam got onto the concrete holding Tyler's limp body. Lying her out, he tilted her head back, elevating it. Tyler let out a harsh cough, spitting up some of the water she'd swallowed. Susan rushed forward, scooping her daughter in her arms.

"Thank god!" she murmured. "Thank god, thank god."

"Mommy?" Tyler let out a sob as her mother's embrace tightened.

"Yeah, baby, I'm here," she cooed, petting her child's wet hair. That really struck a chord, making me sick to my stomach.

"Tyler, do you see Maggie anywhere?" I heard Sam ask.

"No, she's gone," she answered, drawing the three of us back into reality.

"Where's Abigail and Megan?" I asked suddenly. Sam looked up from the concrete, eyes wide with fear.

* * *

**_Abigail's Point of View_**

**_Playroom—Day_**

I sat in the corner of the playroom, holding Megan as she wailed loudly. No matter what I did, it didn't help her. I had been trapped for what seemed like an hour. Pressing my head against Megan's, I shushed her in the most calm and collected tone I could muster up, when in reality, I was scared shitless. I had to be the last one to try and get out of the room with the creepy dolls.

I just _had_ to be.

"Why is she crying?" I heard a girl's voice ask.

I looked up to see Maggie standing in front of me with her head tilted, looking down at Megan. "She's scared," I said softly, watching Maggie's image flicker before me.

"Why?" she asked.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I-I'm not sure, Maggie…maybe if you let us go, she'll stop."

Maggie's eyes fell on me. "Then you'll leave. You and Megan."

"Me and Megan have to leave, Maggie," I told her, seeing a dark expression sweep across her face, and left me with a feeling of dread. This was a bad idea.

"But _why_?" she stamped her foot. I jumped when a doll came flying off a shelf, nearly hitting me in the head. I covered Megan against me tightly when it shattered and cringed. "Everyone I know is leaving! Tyler's gonna leave! Then you and Megan are gonna leave!"

"Why do you want Tyler, Megan, and me to stay, Maggie?" I asked, trying to calm her down.

"Because I want to play!" Her eyes went wide with grief. "I don't have anyone to play with me. If you stay, you can be my mommy, and you and Megan and me and Tyler can play all the time!" Hearing Maggie's words tore my heart to shreds. Maggie had died young. She had to be alone all this time, wanting someone, _anyone_ to play with her, and Maggie thought of me as a mother-substitute. "You'll stay. I can make sure of it."

I broke out of my thoughts, widening my eyes when she said that. "What do you mean, Maggie?" Around that time, another doll, much bigger than the one before came sailing off the shelf and collided against my head. It took my breath away, it hit so hard. My grip on my daughter slackened, feeling Maggie pull her away from me. I struggled against the void that was going to swallow me. I shook my head, feeling like I had drunk _way_ too much liquor, and swayed, falling on my side. Maggie held Megan with a triumphant smile. "Please don't hurt her, Maggie," I slurred out. "Don't hurt her…"

_Margaret._ I blinked several times, hearing a voice whisper out her name. Maggie frowned, tilting her head to the side with Megan in her arms. I reached out for her, letting out a sob, when she disappeared.

_No_.

_No, no, no_! My arm felt like it weighed a ton, and I let it fall, allowing the empty void of unconsciousness swallow me.

* * *

**_Dean's Point of View_**

I couldn't get into the Inn any faster than what I did. "_Abigail_!" I bellowed out. Sam ran behind me easily. Bounding up the stairs like they were nothing, I swung the door that was labelled _Private_ open, half-expecting it to be sealed like the pool house. Instead, I practically fell into the room, stumbling. "Abs?!" I looked around, not seeing any sign of Abigail or Megan.

"Dean!" I spun around, seeing Sam moving across the room to a far corner. I side stepped the table with the replica of the Inn, only to freeze, seeing Abigail lying on the ground with her arm outstretched, and a nasty gash across her forehead. She was unconscious. I was instantly at her side, holding her face in my hands.

"Abs, I need you to wake up," I said, patting her on the cheek briskly. "_Abs_." I glanced up, not hearing Megan. "Sam, stay with her. I don't know where Megan's at." Getting up, I began to sling dolls off of chairs in search for my daughter. I then plundered the couch, tables, then came up to a crib where there was a bunch of them, then I froze. Lying inside it was Megan, calm as can be, gnawing on her fist. I couldn't hardly breathe, in fact, it was dizzying how bad I was scared. Picking her up, I held her against me, in tears. "Dad's got you," I murmured to her. "Don't be scared, Dad's got you."

I don't think she needed to be told not to be scared. I think it was directed more towards myself than anything. Taking a moment to calm myself from Megan's brief disappearance, I turned seeing Sam help Abigail sit up. "Megan? Where's Megan?" she asked, getting frantic. She struggled to get up, only for Sam to hold her still.

"Abigail, she's okay. Dean's got her," he told her. I came into view, seeing her distraught expression shift into relief as she brought her hand to her mouth, leaning against Sam and she started crying. Sam shifted his gaze to me, upset. Hell, I was too. "Is Maggie here with us?"

"No," Abigail whimpered.

Susan and Tyler finally made it up to the room, stopping short when she saw the three of us gathered in a close knit group. "Are you okay?"

I glanced down to Abigail, then to Megan. "Yeah…thanks for asking."

Susan nodded, looking down to her daughter. "We're leaving in two minutes, we've just got to get Grandma," she said, leaving Tyler with us. I looked to Tyler, seeing her more or less still scared about the trauma she went through.

"You want to do me a favor?" I asked her, seeing her eyes flit to me. "Megan's gettin' kinda heavy on me, and I need to check on Abigail…you wouldn't happen to know anyone who could hold her, would you?" Abigail and Sam looked up to me with confused looks, then softened when Tyler's eyes lit up.

"Really?" she asked.

I nodded, "Yeah." Slowly, Tyler came up to me, holding her arms out awkwardly. Placing Megan in her arms, she grinned from ear to ear.

"She's like a doll!" she said.

"Yeah. But she's real," I assured. "I'll be a minute, okay?" Tyler nodded enthusiastically. I kneeled down to Abigail's level, looking to her and Sam. "I don't get it, did Maggie just stop?"

"Seems like it," Sam said in a low tone, equal to mine as I looked at Abigail. With the lightest touch, I pushed her hair out of the way to examine her forehead. She winced, jerking back a bit.

"Quit bein' a baby," I told her, seeing the withering glare from underneath me. I grinned. "Looks like you've got one helluva punt knot, but you're gonna need a couple stitches."

"Figures," Abigail muttered. "Where the hell did Maggie go?" Upstairs, Susan screamed, answering her question. Tyler went to Abigail, scared as she held both Tyler and Megan in her arms, protectively while Sam and I ran up to the room, finding Rose slumped in her wheelchair, dead.

* * *

**_Abigail's Point of View_**

"So, what happened to your head?" a paramedic asked as he tugged lightly on the suture.

"I fell goin' up the stairs to help Mrs. Thompson," I replied easily, then forced a soft chuckle. "But clumsy me, just _has_ to be the special kind of person to trip _up_ the stairs, rather than _down_."

He laughed as he finished up, putting the needle and suture in a biohazard bin. "Yeah, it does." With gloved hands, he held my face still as he looked it over. "Well, you're good as new."

I smiled, "Thanks." I climbed out the back of the ambulance just as another group of paramedics carted out Rose's body. Susan was deeply upset about the death of her mother, but something was telling me Rose _chose_ to die to protect Tyler, hell, to even protect Megan and me.

"Do you think…Margaret could have something to do with it?" I heard Susan ask.

Dean shrugged, holding Megan closer than usual. "We don't know." His eyes flitted over to me, the same heavy weight of self-loathing and pain started to pull at me. With a soft smile, I ducked under his arm, feeling him pull me against him.

"But it's possible, yeah," Sam replied. We fell silent for a moment. "Susan, I'm sorry."

Susan shook her head, smiling. "You have nothing to apologize for. You've given me everything." She turned as Tyler came out of the house. "Ready to go, kiddo?"

"Yeah," she replied, coming up to her mother as she took her hand.

Dean looked down to her. "Now Tyler, you're sure Maggie's not around anymore?"

"I'm sure. I'd see her," she told us while her mother wrapped her in her arms. With one last exchange of smiles, they headed over to the taxi that was waiting for them.

"I guess whatever's goin' on must be over," I commented, hearing Dean hum. We both watched as Sam held the door open for Susan.

"You two take care of yourselves, alright?" Sam told them as Tyler hopped in. Susan, however, turned and gave Sam a full-body hug, causing me and Dean both to smirk.

"Thank you. All of you," she said, then got in. Sam then shut the door behind her as I gave her a half-assed wave. Sam came to rejoin us, watching as the taxi retreated and finally went out of sight.

"Think you could have hooked up some MILF action there, bub," I quipped, getting a look from Sam.

Dean grinned, "We're serious! I think she liked you."

"Yeah, that's all she needs," Sam scoffed.

"Well, you saved the mom, you saved the girl," I said,

"Plus, Abs walked away with a few bumps and a couple of stitches—," Dean added.

"Not a bad day, at all," I cut in, glancing up to see Dean purse his lips. No harm towards Megan. _Thank God_.

Dean smirked, "'Course you know, I could have saved 'em myself, but I didn't want you to feel useless."

Sam looked over to me with an arched brow. I smiled at him, rolling my eyes at Dean's macho-man guise. "Alright," he said, going along with him. "I appreciate it." By now, we were standing by the Impala with the passenger rear door open. Dean leaned in with Megan, buckling her up while I leaned against the rear quarter panel.

"Feels good getting' back in the saddle, doesn't it?" I asked, earning curious looks from both men. "You know, bein' back on the job—savin' people, huntin' things."

"Yeah, it does, but that still doesn't change what we talked about last night, guys," Sam brought up. I cast my gaze down to the asphalt while Dean came back out of the Impala, leaning against it.

"We talked about a lot of things last night," Dean replied, nonchalant.

"You two know what I mean," Sam said in a soft tone.

I let out a soft, scoffing noise. "You were wasted."

"But you weren't. Neither of you were," Sam pointed out, getting angry. "You two promised." I opened the passenger door, sliding to the middle before Sam got in. Dean got in the driver's side, as both men shut the doors rather hard. I twisted around, seeing Megan out cold, putting my mind at ease some. Once on the road, I had settled down as Dean wrapped an arm around me, allowing me to rest my head on his shoulder while Sam was in full-on brood mode. I glanced over to him, knowing Dean did as well.

There was nothing but fear and worry swirling around aside from the anger radiating off Sam, but it was fueled by fear. We weren't just shaken up by today's events, we were petrified by what was now being added to the list. Nothing was going to happen to Sam, just like nothing was going to happen to Megan or me.

_Dean promised_.

_Because he's a man of his word_, a voice sneered. I glanced up to Dean, seeing him stare straight at the road now, jaw tightened. _He's not going to save you. He's going to Hell, and he's gonna drag the ship and crew down with him._ I squeezed my eyes shut, barely shaking my head as a firm _no_. This was not any of the voices I heard on a regular basis. This was a new one. An evil one. Even the voices I heard were buzzing with life, ultimately becoming an irritating hum until they drowned out that single, sinister voice.

_Have Faith, Abigail_. I instantly relaxed upon hearing that voice. It was so soothing.

"You alright?" Dean asked.

I opened my eyes, meeting his concerned gaze. I smiled, "Yeah…my head's just bustin'."

Dean's brows knitted as he put his attention back to the road. "You know I can't let you sleep it off."

I nodded. "Yeah, I know," I answered. "Concussion and what not." Sam never made another sound. I turned my head to look at him, realizing he'd fallen asleep.

"You wanna talk about what happened up in that playroom?" Dean asked.

I fell silent for a beat. "Maggie only wanted someone to play with." I swallowed a lump. "She died young..."

"That part I got when she tried to kill Tyler, but why you and Megan?"

"She wanted a Mom," I answered, finding it hard to keep a level voice. "And I guess she settled for me." Everything I said didn't sit well with me. I let out shaky breath, "All she wanted was a mom and someone to play with…then I guess Rose called out to her—"

Dean stiffened. "What do you mean Rose called out to her? The old woman couldn't move, much less speak."

I shrugged, "I don't know, Dean…I just heard someone sayin', _Margaret_. I thought I was hearin' things, but it only made sense when I woke up and Rose was dead." Dean had fallen silent. "What is it?"

"Did you…did you just get another power?" he asked.

I frowned, realizing this. "Maybe this was just a one-time thing, Dean. I-I mean, I was hit in the head, a lot of things was happenin'." Dean fell silent, finding no words. I couldn't find any to offer any form of comfort. If this _was_ some kind of new ability, then was I becoming some kind of person who could hear things telepathically when chosen to listen?

This was just another road block forming. Another way for Dean to think of me as a freak. I balled my hands up at the thought of it, not taking in account for the wary look I received from him when I did so. Yet, he still said nothing, and I could literally hear him saying, _Freak_.

_Have faith, Abigail_, the voice said once again. As much as I wanted to relax, or calm down, or seek some kind of refuge. I didn't. I chanted those words over, and over again, but no matter how many times I repeated it, I couldn't shake this awful feeling that was residing on my chest.

* * *

**A/N: I'm so glad I have this out on a timely manner! **

**I just want to let everyone know that these next few weeks, writing will be virtually non-existent due to this class that I'm in. It's editorial photography, and I have to be out and about every weekend so that I can (try) to get a good grade. I'm freaking out about it. I just wanted to be on the safe side with y'all and let you guys know what's going on so that none of you might think I just up and quit like the fifteen hundred times before. Just, whenever I can, I will write, but it's just gonna be a little bit before I can get back into full swing.**

* * *

**I want to thank _Ladysunshine6 _helping me out, and _SkyQueen1111_ for beta-reading. You two are the best!**

* * *

**grapejuice101- Thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed this chapter too!**

**ebonywarrior85- Thank you, dearie! So glad you like the chapter, but something tells me you'll like this one better. I did, as a matter of fact! It was great, but it gave me major Sam feels and it the first episode! D:**

**angelicedg- Thank you! I was so worried people weren't going to like it, but I'm glad y'all do! For right now, I'm not sure what path this nightmare is going to mean...maybe it'll lead up to something that would be revealed in Season 3? (;**

**sarahmichellegellarfan1- Yay! So glad you loved it! It really is hard to believe that Megan is already six months old! Time flies! Thank you for being so understanding. I've not seen a doctor since I was fourteen (I'm twenty-two now) and I think it's just come back twice as bad as it was. I have zero kind of medical, so seeing one right now is virtually impossible. ):**

**Guest- Thank you! So glad to have you as a reader! Hope you're enjoying this story!**

**Guest101 (Chapter 14, Bad Company. Chapters 1, 8, (and maybe 13?), Strike Back)- Thank you so much for your kind words! It really fills my heart with joy knowing that you love this story! So many feels for me this morning! I hope to see more reviews from you in the near future! Much love!**

**Mayrem- Thank you for your kind words! I never thought I'd see a review saying that this story was flawless (I always thought it had so many gaping holes and whatnot), so this really made my day! Again, thank you so much!**


	17. Nightshifter

_Search endlessly, fight 'til we're free!_

_Fly past the edge of the sea!_  
_No bended knee!_  
_No mockery!_  
_Somehow we still carry on!_

* * *

_There was a bright light. Blinding. I scrunched my face with a groan, "The hell? Sam, close the curtains…it's too early for your crap." I peered up, half-expecting to be staring back at the sun blazing through the motel room and hearing Sam's laugh. I didn't stare at the sun, or Sam. I was staring at the whole universe; galaxies, stars, planets…it would've been an astronomer's fantasy, or some kind of painting from Salvador Dali. My heart fluttered in my chest as I gazed mindlessly towards the sky. I have seen many landscapes, nightscapes, and cityscapes in my lifetime, but this…it had to be one of the most beautiful sights I had ever saw. _

_I was gobsmacked._

_Breaking my gaze towards the heavens, I turned my attention elsewhere, realizing that I was in a garden. This garden stretched out for miles and miles; trees and plants of every kind seemed to have lined up with one lone tree in the middle. In all reality, this all looked like something taken straight out of the Bible—The Garden of Eden. The sun that shone across this vast garden didn't even feel the same._

"_The birth of your child has to be number one," a voice came from behind me._

_I spun around, wide-eyed, meeting a middle-aged African-American man behind me. He offered me a knowing smirk as he walked past me, "Who-who are you?"_

"_Joshua." He replied simply. _

_I glanced back up to the sky, "Where am I?"_

"_The Garden." Came his simple reply. _

_I shook my head, "I must be dreamin'." I muttered, catching sight of a full-grown lion curled around a flawless, white lamb, grooming it like a cub. I swallowed, glancing to Joshua who only remained as calm as he had been, "I'm dreamin'…this, this don't happen." I gestured to the lion and lamb, then up to the sky._

_Once again, Joshua smiled, "This is your version of The Garden. Though, the sky is a nice touch." He commented, then gestured me to follow him, "Come, walk with me."_

_At this, I looked around once more, then fought down a lump in my throat, "Am I…?"_

_Joshua shook his head, "No. You're in perfect health, Abigail. Just sleeping." He offered me his arm, to which, I threaded mine through as we started walking, "We don't have much time."_

"_So…I'm in heaven?"_

"_Not entirely."_

_I furrowed my brows, "I always thought that the Garden of Eden was in Heaven."_

"_It is, but then again, it isn't."_

_My face scrunched at his words, the vagueness of them were beginning to confuse me. "That doesn't make much sense…Purgatory then?"_

_Joshua gave me a stern look, "_No_." I was taken aback by the vehemence in his voice._

"_Okay, so not Purgatory…then what could you say that Eden's in? The center of the universe or Heaven?" I asked, not really meaning to sound sarcastic._

_Like a flip of a switch, he started to chuckle, "You can say that." _Progress.

"_So…why am I here?" I asked. Joshua then stopped, turning ever so slightly towards me. _

"_God knows about your hardships, Abigail. He sees the pain you are in, as well as your triumphs. He has plans for you; plans that you can't begin to imagine—but, for them to fall into place, you were given obstacles."_

"_What do you mean, plans?" I asked, becoming suspicious, "What plans? What obstacles?"_

_He ignored my questions, "Your powers…they're getting stronger every day, right?"_

_I let go of Joshua's arm and took a step back, "How do you know about that?"_

"_You can see, Abigail, but you choose not to. You try to deny what you have, which is understandable. You're scared, but you're one of the few that can see my true form." _

"_What are you talkin' about—" My breath hitched in my throat. Before me, where Joshua stood, was a colossal being. I couldn't hardly breathe. I couldn't even budge. This, _whatever_ it was, must've stood four or five stories high, "Are you an…Angel?" I forced out, and like a flip of a switch, Joshua was standing before me._

_He nodded, "The voices in your head?"_

"_Angels." I deadpanned, then grabbed my head, "This can't be happenin'." I looked down at my hands, seeing them shake, "I need to wake up. Like, now." I couldn't process this. There was just no way! _

_I nearly jumped out of my skin, meeting Joshua's gaze, as he stood just a few feet in front of me. _

"_Your powers are essential to your survival, Abigail." His eyes lowered to something, reaching out. It took me a moment to realize that he was reaching to take a hold of my necklace—The sigil of Zadkiel and my bullet casing that Dean had made me. Handling it with upmost care, Joshua hummed, smiling once again, "More will be revealed when the time comes." Letting my necklace fall, he then touched my forehead, hearing lambs somewhere off in the distance, letting out distressed cries._

"The lambs…" I choked out, "Somethin's wrong with the lambs, Joshua."

"_What_?" Came a groggy voice.

"The lambs…" I choked out again, feeling the heaviness of sleep weigh down on me, "Don't you hear them?!"

"_Abs?_" That same voice sounded alarmed this time, followed by the feeling of being shaken. I jerked, breathing heavily and met Dean's alarmed gaze. It had to be sometime in the night, due to the glow of the moon hitting the room. Megan's cries sounded from beside me, which put me in the mind of a lamb's cry. I sat up, feeling the weight of Dean's hand on my shoulder, "Hey," are you okay?"

I swallowed, "Yeah…yeah, I'm good. Bad dream." I remained sitting, hearing Megan's cries intensify.

Dean gave me a tired, knowing look before he moved his hand off of my shoulder, pushing a few strands of hair out of my face, "Lay back down, I got her." I looked over at him, holding half of my face in my hand, and nodded at him. He leaned in, kissing me on the lips with utmost tenderness. Judging by the deep, groggy sensation I was getting, Dean hadn't been asleep long.

I took his hand in mine just before he moved to get out of the bed, stopping him, "I've got her, Dean. You need sleep more than I do."

He gave me a confused look, "You sure?" He asked, "I mean, I'm good to go since you went all _Silence of the Lambs_ on me." I shot him a look, earning a sleepy grin from him, "What?"

Throwing the covers off of me, I slowly rose to my feet, approaching Megan's Pack-N-Play, seeing her crying. Leaning over to pick her up, her hand went into her mouth, gnawing at it with at least a gallon of slobber trailing down her chin. I felt a nagging pain in my gums, knowing it was her teeth bothering her.

"Poor thing," I murmured, pressing my lips against my daughter's temple, "Those teeth are bein' mean, ain't they?" Megan whimpered, chewing on her hand like it was going to fade away while Dean had gotten up from the bed, snaking his arms around my waist, and pressed a gentle kiss against my exposed skin.

We were both up and wide awake with a cranky seven month old baby. Sleep was no longer in our agenda. The both of us stood like this for a long moment as Megan calmed down a little bit.

"You know, we could just get clothes on and go somewhere." He suggested, resting his forehead against my shoulder.

"In the middle of January?" I asked. He let out a short hum, nodding his head, "Don't you think it's a little too cold right now to get Megan out?"

"It'd be one way to get her back to sleep." He pointed out as he trailed short, sweet kisses along my bare shoulder, "C'mon, let's do it."

Dean had a point, and, he already had her spoiled to being lulled to sleep by us just taking off and driving for a little bit. Dean took a moment, staring at the lump of sheets that was Sam as he shook his head, "I swear, the kid could sleep through an atomic bomb going off."

"He sleeps with ear plugs in, what do you expect?" I asked, setting Megan back into her play pin so that I could get some better clothes on.

Sneaking out of the motel five minutes later, Dean, Megan, and I were pulling out of the motel parking lot and hitting the streets. From between us, Megan was already dozing off. Dean would glance down at her every so often with a triumphant smirk.

"Told you." He teased with a child-like glimmer in his eyes.

I looked down at Megan with a soft smile then laughed lightly, "That you did." I admitted, "Out cold."

"Works every time." He with a grin, "You wanna grab something to eat? I'm starving."

"Why yeah. Now that you mention it, I'm starvin' too."

Pulling in at a gas station, Dean leaned over to give me a quick kiss and gave me a light-hearted smile, "I'll be back." I nodded, watching as he got out, leaving the car running as he went inside. I couldn't help but smile, seeing him shiver a little as he entered the gas station, soon leaving my sight. I allowed myself to settle into the front seat beside my daughter, leaning my head back to listen to the radio. _House of the Rising Sun_ was playing. It was one of my dad's favorite songs, and he could play _and sing_ the hell out of it.

Humming along to the song, I opened my eyes halfway, looking out of the car to see a lamb staring at me with big, black eyes. I frowned, blinking a few times to ensure I was just delirious with sleep. It wasn't there after the third time I blinked. An unsettling feeling churned in my stomach, like something bad was going to happen. I jumped when the door to the Impala opened causing a blast of cold sweep over me as Dean got back in with a couple of bags.

"Scare ya?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Maybe," I replied, "Maybe I'm goin' crazy without sleep."

Dean let out a thoughtful hum, "You may have a good point." He handed me the bags after digging out an apple pie, then tore into it, "Brightside, we don't have to listen to Clean Eating McGee harp about what we eat."

I dug out a burger, unwrapping it, "Ain't that the truth?"

"So…" He began, chewing unceremoniously, "You wanna talk about that nightmare?"

I chewed, hesitating for a moment as I debated whether to even talk about it, "It doesn't make any sense."

"Our lives don't make any sense, Abs."

"Touché," I mumbled, peeling down the wrapper some, "I can't really explain it…I mean, it was vivid and it felt real…but I can't remember most of it. Only bits and pieces, y'know?" Dean nodded, urging me to continue as he took another bite, "I was in this…garden, I guess. There was a lion and a lamb together, the sky wasn't even the sky—it was like the entire universe was right there."

"You're right, it sounds awful." Dean joked, offering me a grin.

"It sounds like a trip," I mused, "But the part that doesn't make sense is that there was this colossal being…like…" I shook my head, trying to remember what it looked like, "God, I hate not rememberin' somethin'."

"I know what you mean, you're in a helluva dream, got Miss Philippines and Miss Cambodia stripping and then you get woke up…sucks." I scoffed, hitting his shoulder playfully as he laughed.

"You're an ass." I commented.

"You like it." He deadpanned.

"Punk."

"Witch."

Dean had gotten Megan out of the car seat and went in the room first. As I grabbed the bags and got out, I halted upon seeing a lamb lingering near the shrubs. In silence, I watched as it moved quietly, pausing to let out a bleat. My heart started to race as an uneasy feeling came back. I looked around me, bags in tow as I searched for the source of what was causing this uneasiness. I couldn't. I forced myself to look back to where the lamb was at, and like the gas station, it was no longer there.

"I'm goin' crazy." I muttered, walking into the warmth of the motel room.

"Really, Dean?" Sam chided loudly.

"What? I didn't do anything!" He replied in a low tone.

"Bull! You know what you did!" I paused at the door seeing Sam sitting up with an annoyed look on his face while Dean was sitting on our bed with our child. The look on his face feigned innocence.

"I don't even want to know." I said.

Dean held Megan in his arms, his 'innocent' expression soon turning into a shit-eating grin, "Daddy's so proud of you." he mumbles to her kissing her temple before he looked back up to me, "Sam's gonna have a hard time getting rid of that smell." I raised my brows, "Our baby let out a big one."

"Just like her father." I quipped as Sam got up to go to the bathroom, scrubbing at his nose while Dean had a hurtful, but playful look on his face.

"Don't mind your mommy, Meggie." He told our daughter, "She's just jealous of my talents—but in all retrospect," He then added, "That's all Sam."

I rolled my eyes, crossing the room, "Give me my kid before you brainwash her into a mini you."

I noticed Sam come out of the bathroom. "My God, what have you all been feeding her?"

"Just the basics, Sam." I replied back. "And for the record, I had no part take in Megan's little stink bomb." Sam just gave us a bitch face, but it was leaning towards Dean than me and Megan.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Jewelry Store**_

_**Milwaukee, Wisconsin **_

I looked down into the glass showcase that held several different rings within. _Homemade or buy_…

"So, what's it like?" The woman asked as she came out of the back with some papers in her hand, "Bein' an FBI guy?" I turned around as she spoke, taken off guard for a short moment by her question.

"Um…well, it's dangerous." I started, trying to think up some kind of bullshit soap opera heartbreak story, "The secrets we've gotta keep…" I shook my head with a dramatic solemn expression, "Oh, God, the secrets…" I went on, seeing this woman fall for it with big eyes, "But mostly it's-it's dangerous."

The woman, whose name I had already forgotten, leaned forward from behind the counter with wide eyes, "I _so_ know what you mean."

I nodded sagely at her, "Yeah, but when I get home, I got two of the most beautiful girls to help me through it all. I probably wouldn't be here if it weren't for them." With that being said, the woman's eyes darted to my hands on top of the glass showcase counter and face sagged upon seeing my ring. Her face then turned a deep red, and her lips pursed in a sour expression, "My partner though…he's a sad, sad fellow." I said, nodding toward Sam, "You see…his dog died, and he's not been the same. Been his childhood pet. He was _real _attached."

"Oh, that poor thing." She said, looking over to my brother.

"He gets real lonely." I added, "It's sad almost. I've been trying to get him back out into the world."

"I know how that is," She replied, "It's hard."

I nodded, taking the papers in my hands, "Yes, it is. I want to thank you for your cooperation."

"Oh, no problem." She scribbled down something on the back of a card, "Give this to your partner…if he wants to ask any more questions—in private—have him call me." I raised my brows at her words, almost surprised by how…forward she was. A few years ago, I would have snatched that opportunity like it was nothing…now? Not so much. I smirked at her, nodding.

"Will do." I took the card, turning to head towards Sam and the manager. As I came up to them, I caught the manager say, "No. The police, they took all the tapes, first thing." I scoffed at his words.

"Yeah, of course they did." I retorted, approaching them with the papers we needed. Sam and the manager both turned. "We should get going." I continued, slapping one of the papers in Sam's hand, who glanced at it, confused. I was more than ready to leave. Of course the cops would be involved, and of course they would've taken the tapes.

_Just fucking peachy._

Reaching the Impala, Abigail was walking across the street with Megan hidden underneath a thick blanket. Upon reaching us, I noticed the red tint of her cheeks and nose from the bite of the cold and the way her hair clung to her clothes from underneath one of Sam's beanies.

"Hey, you." I greeted her with a quick kiss.

She smiled against my lips as she pulled back, "Hey, you. So, what did y'all find out?"

Sam opened up one of the rear doors, allowing her to put Megan in her car seat, "One of the store's top buyers went AWOL, steals all kinds of diamonds, and shoots one of the guard's in the face. No motives. Nada. Then she shot herself."

"If she had no motive, then why rob a jewelry store, only to gank herself?" Abigail asked, straightening back up. Sam shrugged.

"Beats me, but we have the address of someone who might know." I said, waving a paper, "C'mon. It's cold out here." Driving around the city for almost an hour, we came down a dark street and pulled up in front of a small house.

"Five - this is it." Sam announced, glancing over to me.

I leaned forward, resting my arms on the steering wheel and gave Sam an irritated look, "Fuckin' cops."

"They're just doin' their job, Dean." Abigail reminded me from the backseat with a gentle touch on the shoulder.

I let out a snort, "No, they're doing _our_ job," I grumbled out, "Only, they don't know it, so they suck at it." Megan gurgled in her car seat, causing me to look back in the rearview mirror. I had set up a mirror of sorts pointing down to Megan, so that I could keep an eye on her. Turning on the lights in the cab, I was able to see my goofy daughter chewing on her fist like it going out of style. I grinned back at her, unaware of the looks I was receiving from both my brother and Abigail.

When I did notice, I cleared my throat and turned my head back to Sam, "Talk to me about this bank." The both of us got out while Abigail remained inside with Megan. I tapped the top of the cab as we both left, approaching the house.

"Uh, Milwaukee National Trust. It was hit about a month ago." Sam said as we walked up to the front of the house, "Same M.O. as the jewelry store."

"So, inside job, longtime employee, the never in a million years type?"

"Yep," Sam replied, "Dude robs the bank, then goes home and supposedly commits suicide."

"The guy Resnick, he was the security guard on duty?" I asked.

Sam nodded, "Yeah. He was actually beaten unconscious by the teller who heisted the place."

"God." I bemused, catching Sam raise his brows slightly then knocked on the door.

"Mr. Resnick? Ronald Resnick?" Sam called out with impatience—at least I wasn't the only one tired of this case already. A bright floodlight turned on, instantly causing Sam and I to shield our eyes.

"Son of a –" I hissed out when the door opened the door, staring at us, wary.

"FBI, Mr. Resnick."

"Let me see the badge." Resnick called out from behind the screen door. I rolled my eyes as we pulled out our badges, slapping them against the screen door in unison. From behind the cover of my hand, I made out the form of a short, chubby man with bushy, black hair. A total dweeb lacking on living in his mother's basement.

"I already gave my statement to the police." He commented, looking back to Sam and I in distrust.

_Abigail would've had this dude turned to mush by now._ "Yeah, listen Ronald, um . . . just some things about your statement we wanted to get some clarification on." I said.

I heard him shift a little, "You read it?"

"Sure did." I replied with words so sweet, they'd give you diabetes.

"You come to listen to what I've got to say?" He asked, the sound of distrust lifted off his voice a little more.

"Well, that's why we're here." I said.

"Well. Come on in." Ronald said, opening the door wide enough to let Sam and me in. He led us through a narrow hallway to a cluttered room; the walls are completely covered with alien photos and conspiracy theory paraphernalia. I faltered back, debating on turning around right now and saying screw this job, until Sam pushed me forward with a sharp look. I tightened my jaw at him, quickly offering Resnick a false smile when he turned back around.

"None of the cops ever called me back. Not after I told them what was really going on. Uh, they all thought I was crazy. First off, Juan Morales never robbed the Milwaukee National Trust, okay? That, I guarantee. See, we and Juan were friends. He used to come back to the bank on my night shifts, and we'd play cards."

"So _you_ let him into the bank that night, after hours." Sam's tone sounded accusing, causing the roles of having a sharp look switched.

"The thing I let into the bank . . . wasn't Juan." Resnick said, "I mean, it had his face, but it wasn't _his_ face. Uh, every detail was perfect, but too perfect, you know, like if a dollmaker made it, like I was talking to a big Juan-doll."

Our brows raised, "A Juan-doll?" Sam asked, doubtfully.

"Look. This wasn't the only time this happened. Okay?" He said, handing Sam a file folder, "There was this jewelry store, too. And the cops, a-and you guys, you just won't see it!" Resnick harped accusingly as Sam peered into the folder, "Both crimes were pulled by the same thing."

"What's that, Mr. Resnick?" Sam prompted.

Ronald picked up a copy of a magazine called _Fortean Times_, and held it to his chest with the cover of it pointed towards us. I rose my brows seeing whatever Sam and Abigail watched..._Doctor Hoodoo? Doctor Why? _Hell, I don't know. He tapped on the cover with his finger, "Chinese've been working on 'em for years. And the Russians before that. Part men, part machine. Like the Terminator. But the kind that can change itself, make itself look like other people."

I smirked, "Like the one from T2."

Ronald nodded with enthusiasm, "Exactly! See, so not just a robot, more of a, a, a, a ... Mandroid." I had to admit, this guy was two fries short in his kid's meal, but he had a point. Except for the man-droid part.

"A Mandroid?" Sam asked.

"And what makes you so sure about this, Ronald?" I asked him. Ronald smiled at us widely as he held up a finger, then inserted a VHS tape labeled, "M.N.T. Camera 4—Juan" into the VHS player.

"See, I made copies of all the security tapes." He explained, "I knew once the cops got them they'd be buried." I nodded, glancing to him, "Here." He then pointed out after he had fast-forwarded the footage, "Now watch." It began to play, and then I could see Julio or whoever come into view, "Watch. Watch him, watch, watch!" I furrowed my brows, feeling this perturbed sensation boil at the pit of my stomach, "See, look! Th-, th-, there it is!" Resnick fumbled around with the remote and paused it on the guy's face, "You see? He's got the laser eyes."

I looked over to Sam, who had the same grim appearance.

"Cops said it was some kind of reflected light. Some kind of "camera flare". Okay? Ain't no damn camera flare. They say I'm a post-trauma case. So what? Bank goes and fires me, it don't matter!" Sam eyed Resnick with caution as Resnick continued to rant, "The mandroid is, is still out there. The law won't hunt this thing down - I'll do it myself. You see, this thing, it, it, it kills the real person, makes it look like a suicide, then it sorta, like, morphs into that person. Cases the job for a while until it knows the take is fat, and then it finds its opening. Now, these robberies, they're, they're grouped together." He gestured to a map on the wall, allowing us to look at it. Seemingly enough, it almost looked like some kind of getup we've made, "So I figure the mandroid is holed up somewhere in the middle, underground, maybe. I dunno, maybe that's where it recharges its, uh, mandroid batteries."

I nodded, impressed at this Resnick's theories, even though they were nine kinds of crazy. They were a far cry from what the monster was, but he was getting close. We both stood.

"Okay." Sam began, "I want you to listen very carefully. Because I'm about to tell you the God's honest truth about all of this." I smiled, waiting to see what Sam had to say, but when they came out, I was surprised, "There's no such thing as Mandroids. There's nothing evil or inhuman going on out there. Just people. Nothing else, you understand?"

_Dude, harsh_.

"The laser eyes." Resnick stuttered out, sounding desperate.

Sam held Resnick's gaze in a cold stare, "Just a camera flare, Mr. Resnick. See, I know you don't want to believe this. But your friend Juan robbed the bank and that's it."

"Get out of my house!" He pointed to the door, "Now!" He yelled out.

"Sure." Sam told him without missing a beat, "First things first." I frowned at Sam, confused at what was going on. "We need you to remand the tape. You understand of course. It's classified as evidence of an ongoing investigation." Sam didn't give Resnick time to process what he had said as he walked over to the television and popped the tape out.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Motel Room—Night**_

The ride from Resnick's house was a quiet one, and I couldn't really understand why. I was able to sense Dean being startled, and Sam being hostile, but that was as far as it got. I didn't ask when they got into the car, and neither of them spoke until we entered our motel room.

"Man, that has got to be the kicker, straight up." Dean began as he opened himself a beer, "I mean, you tell that poor son of a bitch that—what did you say, remand the tapes that he copied?" I furrowed my brows at his words, looking over to Sam for some kind of explanation, "Classified evidence of an ongoing investigation?" Dean belted out a laugh, "That's messed up."

Sam sat down after putting the VHS tape in the player, "What are you, pissed at me or something?" He questioned, sounding pissed off himself.

"Nah, I just think it's a little creepy how good of a Fed you are. I mean, come on, we could have at least thrown the guy a bone. He did some pretty good legwork here." Dean commented.

"Mandroid?" Sam deadpanned, causing me to arch a brow at that word.

_The hell is a Mandroid?_

Dean then shrugged in acknowledgement of his point, "Except for the mandroid part." He said, moving over to our bed and sat down opening up a map I had laid out for him, "I liked him. He's not that different from you, Abs, or me. People think we're crazy."

"Yeah, but my guess is that this guy ain't a hunter." I finally cut in, earning surprised looks from both Sam and Dean, "Which is why Sam said what he said, right?" I asked, looking over to Sam, who merely nodded, "I'm just goin' off what little I know, and what I'm hearin."

"He's just a guy who stumbled onto something real." Sam continued, "If he were to go up against this thing he'd get torn apart. Better to stay in the dark, and stay alive."

"Yeah, I guess." Dean muttered, placing tracing paper over top the map and started marking with a red pen.

"Abs." I turned to Sam, who was watching the tape, and paused it on some man with flaring eyes. There was a sinking feeling in my stomach, "What do you think?"

I swallowed hard, holding Megan a little bit closer to me as I recalled a few choice words this creature had said to me; _"Me? A freak?" The shifter chuckled again, "You're the freak, Abigail, is it?" His teeth flashed in a grin, "Dean's afraid of you because of what you are. He can't stand being near you, or hearing you speak, you undignified hick. You are nothing but a piece of ass and a burden on him."_

I blinked back a few tears that had threatened to come out, "Shapeshifter. Just like back in St. Louis." My gaze never left the screen, "Same retinal reaction to video." My hand ached from the memory of our run-in with the last shapeshifter we dealt with.

"Eyes flare at the camera. I hate those fuckin' things." Dean grumbled out, the tone of his voice gained a deadly edge to it. He remembered it as well as I did.

"You think I don't?" Sam scoffed out.

"Yeah, well, one didn't turn into you and frame you for murder." Dean pointed out as he traced a pattern on paper of the sewer system.

"At least y'all didn't have to find out you were pregnant, and get a hand broke because of it." Sam and Dean's heads turned with dejected appearances, "If this shifter's anything like the one we killed in Missouri ..."

"You're having no part of it, and then Ronald was right." Dean cut in, pointing the pen at me, "Alright, they like to layer up underground, preferably the sewer. And all the robberies have been connected so far, right?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah."

"With the, uh, sewer main layout. There's one more bank lined up on that same sewer main. City Bank of Milwaukee." Dean sat his empty beer bottle down on the table in order to shrug on his jacket. That was until Sam dug into a duffel bag and brought out a gray uniform—the same ones they had worn back when we had to deal with Meg. He looked at them with the upmost disdain, "Oh, c'mon." Sam held one out, "Really?" Sam held a smirk, wiggling the uniform in his hand. Dean let out a loud breath, "Damn it."

Megan cooed and smiled at him from over my shoulder. The both of them were dressed up in the uniforms. Dean looked absolutely miserable, "Yeah, laugh it up princess." He said to her, taking her in his arms, "It's not what it's cracked up to be." Dean then pressed his lips against her forehead.

"I'll go get the car started." Sam said, motioning to the door. Dean and I nodded.

"I don't want you nowhere _near _this bank, Abigail." He murmured, "Hell, nowhere near this case…"

"I know you don't…but maybe I could still help." I pressed with a note of caution in my voice, "I'm not sayin' I have to be right with you and Sam. The bank will be open late, meaning there's goin' to be _a lot_ of people—potential suspects. You and Sam can't see them all in a screen." Dean's jaw clenched, "_Maybe_, and I'm just throwin' out ideas here, _maybe_ I could be posed as a civilian and look around while you and Sam do surveillance. If I catch sight of it, I'll alert you and Sam, then I come here. In and out. No harm, no foul."

Dean was silent for a good, long minute as he mulled my offer over. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that he wasn't set on it, but I had a point. Sam and him couldn't catch a shifter as fast as what I could—I'd see it right off the bat.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**City Bank of Milwaukee—Night**_

Sam and I were being led by a security guard down the main hall of the bank and towards the array of camera feed, "Well, we haven't had any flags go up on our system yet." The guard was telling us on the way to the room.

"No, this is a glitch in the overall grid. We just want to make sure the branch monitors are kosher." I assured with ease, taking note of the old guard accepting what I said.

"Well, better to be safe than sorry, I guess." The guard said with a shrug.

I smirked, "That's the plan." The guard opened the door to an observation room with several TV screens showing security footage and showed us in.

"Alrighty. You guys need anything else?" He asked.

"Oh, no, no, we'll be, uh, we'll be in and out before you know it, just a routine check." Sam replied, turning to him.

"Okie-dokie." The man spoke with a cheerful tone, the both of us hearing the door close behind us.

"I like him. He says _Okie-dokie_." I commented with a laugh.

"What if he's the shifter?" Sam spoke with a darkened gaze.

I shrugged, "Well, then we follow him home, put a silver bullet through his chestplate." We sat down to watch the screens. Abigail was right. There was a lot of people in this place still. I just hoped everything worked out as smoothly as Abigail put it into words. Shifting in the chairs, I looked over to Sam, "Okay. Well, you got any popcorn?"

An hour passed of us reviewing the screens; the guard on one. He checked out. Eyes were normal, "Well, it looks like mister okie-dokie is . . . okie-dokie."

"Maybe we jumped the gun on this, Dean." Sam started to say, second-guessing this whole thing, "I mean, we don't even know it's here."

One of the screens were set on the front door. One of them opened as Abigail holding Megan sauntered in, her eyes scanning the crowds, before flickering up to one of the cameras with a smirk. Sam looked over in time to see Abigail throwing a wink, causing him to shift in his seat.

"I dunno, Dean…Maybe we should just go back to the sewers and . . and . . ." His voice faltered when he caught sight of me zooming in one of the cameras on Abigail's ass when she had turned.

"Dean, we're supposed to be looking for eyes." Sam chided, although he was staring at the screen as well. I turned to him with an arched brow.

"I'm getting there."

"Oh yeah?" Sam questioned, tilting his head a little to stare at me. I caught Abigail furrowing her brows at something.

"Wait a minute," I muttered seeing her discomfort. On another screen, I looked to see a middle-aged man beside her turn towards the camera; his eyes flared, sending a wave of panic through me. Abigail and Megan was _right next _to the shapeshifter.

"Hello, freak." I said levelly.

"Got him." Sam agreed, "Abigail's heading out." Sam got up to leave as Abigail was turning for the doors. I lingered behind, looking at another screen, anger seething under my skin.

"Sam!"

He turned, "What?"

We both watched as Ronald scurried up to the outer door with a chain and padlock, chaining the door shut.

Shit.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Main Bank Hall—Night**_

Holding Megan against me, I was on my way out of the bank until the sound of half-running alerted me and some guy ran down the stairs with an assault rifle in tow. I paused, panicking, and scrambled for the bathroom when he brandished it and fired. The shot echoing throughout the establishment.

"This is not a robbery! Everybody on the floor now!" The man yelled out. I locked the bathroom, sliding down against the bathroom door and held Megan against me as she began screaming.

_What the hell did I get myself into?_

I flinched when another shot rang out, followed by people screaming, "Get down, dammit! Come on! On the floor, on the floor! In the middle! On the floor in the middle! In the middle, on the floor, come on! Hurry up, come on!" I pulled out my phone, dialing Dean's number.

"_Where are you?"_ Dean's said in a low tone.

"In the bathroom," I said softly, trying to shush Megan's crying. I heard Dean let out a sigh, "What the hell's goin' on, Dean? Who is that guy?"

"_That's Ronald."_

"The jilted security guard?" I hissed out, "What the hell? Why is he here?"

"_I don't know!"_ Dean hissed back, "_He must've made the connection to this bank or something!" _I nearly jumped out of my skin when the door to the bathroom started to rattle.

"Who's in there?!" The man's voice yelled out. He was nearly panicking, "Open this door!"

"Dean, hurry up!" I hissed out, then let out an ungodly sound when the door finally burst open. I held Megan against me when the same guy barged in with the assault rifle point straight for me. My eyes were wide with shock and fear for the safety of my child. Was I scared about this buffoon? No. Was I scared that this buffoon had an assault rifle and had no idea how to work one? You can bet your sweet ass I was.

"On your feet!" He ordered, shouldering it with quaking hands. When I didn't move, he motioned the gun, "Now!"

"Point that damn thing somewhere else but me and my kid, dammit!" I snapped, earning a shocked look from him, and so he did, "You point that at me again, you're gonna regret it."

"Then go!" he yelled, "Out there with the others!"

I raised a hand, "Give me a minute!" I snapped, getting to my feet with Megan in my arms, "Have some damn manners." He glared at me, I shot one right back, but he stepped back, almost fearful. We came out of the bathroom, Ronald behind me with the gun pointed directly at my back.

"Alright, down on the floor! Do it!" I glared at him, slowly moving to my knees and then settled on my ass, "Lie down!"

"Not with my kid, I ain't." I snapped over her screaming, "Look, Ronald…this ain't how to approach a situation."

"How do you know my name?" He questioned, "Are-are you one of those FBI agents?"

I raised my brows, realizing my mistake, "Ronald, just…take it easy, a'ight? We got off on the wrong foot. In my defense, you don't point a gun at a woman and her kid."

"Shut up!" He ordered, and I lifted a hand in surrender. Ronald help up a key showing it to me and everyone in the main hall of the bank, "Now, there's only one way in or out of here, and I chained it up." Ronald focused on me, "So nobody's leaving, do you understand?"

"Peachy." I muttered, glancing down at Megan. I wiped away a few of her tears, bringing her close against my chest.

"Are you with those other two?" Ronald questioned, "You're not a fed, are you?" My eyes slid past him to see Dean and Sam come into view. I heard the safety get switched off when I didn't answer straight away, "Answer me!"

If looks could've killed, Ronald would've been a smoldering pile of ashes right now—by Dean's standards. "Hey, buddy." Dean said as he and Sam came into view, "Calm down. Just calm down,"

Ronald spun around, "What the- You!" He couldn't decide who to train the gun on, them or me, "Get on the floor, now!" When they didn't he focused back on me, "Or I'll shoot her and the kid!"

"That's just low." I muttered out, seeing him glare at me. Ronald wasn't going to shoot me. He wouldn't dare…too soft-hearted, and even to say that, it killed him. He wasn't that type of guy.

Dean's eyes flickered over to me, then back to Ronald, and nodded, "Okay, we're doing that. Just don't shoot anybody—especially her and her kid." Sam and him raised their hands as they kneeled.

"I knew it. As soon as you two left. You ain't FBI." Ronald continued, "Who are you? Who are you working for, huh? The men in black? You working for the mandroid?"

I raised my brow, "The what?"

"We're not working for the mandroid!" Sam snapped.

"You, shut up! I ain't talking to you. I don't like you." Ronald spat out to Sam. I pursed my lips, trying desperately not to laugh. Dean gave Sam a look that pretty well meant, 'I told you so'.

Sam glanced over to me and Megan, then nodded, "Fair enough."

Ronald gestured to a middle-aged black man, "Get on 'em. Frisk them down, make sure they got no weapons on them." The man hesitated, "Go!" And so, the man got up and went over to Sam. He shook his head when Sam didn't have anything, then moved to Dean. Dean held a guilty appearance when, upon frisking him, the man found a knife in his boot.

"Now what have we here?" Ronald questioned as Sam gave him a dark look.

Dean glanced at him, "I'm not just gonna walk in here naked!"

Ronald then nodded to me, "Her too." Then he motioned to a woman, "Get her kid until he's done." An elderly woman slowly got up, scared to death, no doubt and came over to me. She gave me an apologetic look as I handed her Megan, then stood up to get frisked. I held a sour expression, because not only did the man take out a knife; he took out several, and also my gun which contained silver bullets.

Ronald appeared to be taken aback by the size of my mini-arsenal, "Jesus…you were loaded down like Fort Knox, weren't ya?" Sam looked absolutely stricken with shock and anger, while Dean looked about smug as a bug in a rug. I merely shrugged at their looks.

"Get back there." Ronald said, taking all of our weapons, and dropped them into a deposit box. The elderly woman handed me Megan.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Dean and I let out a sigh, and winced, "We know you don't want to hurt anybody. That's exactly what's gonna happen if you keep waving that cannon around, and why don't you let these people go?"

"No! I already told you. If nobody's gonna stop this thing, then I've got to do it myself." Ronald said, looking to Dean.

"Hey, we believe you! That's why we're here." Dean said, trying to win Ronald over.

"You don't believe me. Nobody believes me! How could they?" He asked.

"Come here." Dean urged in a level tone.

"What? No." He replied, exasperated.

"You're holding the gun, boss, you're calling the shots. I just want to tell you something. Come here." Dean urged, ultimately winning Ronald over. He approached Dean with caution. I strained to listen to what they were saying, but I knew Dean had told Ronald that the shifter was the bank manager.

"What?" I heard Ronald ask in disbelief.

"Why do you think we've got these getups, huh? We've been monitoring the cameras in the back. We saw the bank manager. We saw his eyes—hell, _she_ saw him." Dean motioned over to me, causing Ronald to glance to me.

"His laser eyes?" He asked.

"Yes." Dean replied quickly, then shook his head, "No. No! No, look, we're running out of time, okay? We've got to find him before he changes into someone else."

"Like I'm gonna listen to you. You're a damn liar." Ronald hissed out. I slowly stood cautiously, Megan pressed against me. He turned around, aiming the gun at me, "I'll shoot you! Get down!" Dean and Sam had wide eyes.

"Take me. Okay? Take me with you, take me as a hostage." Dean said quickly, trying to get the heat off of me, "But we've gotta act fast. Because the longer we just sit here the more time he has to change." Ronald gave Dean a considering look, "Look at me, man. I believe you. You're not crazy. There really is somethin' inside this bank."

Finally, Ronald gave him a curt nod, "Alright. You come with me. But everyone else gets in the vault!" Everyone around gasped out or protested out of fear.

Sam moved near me as Ronald ushered us into the vault, the both of us looking back to Dean, who appeared to be deeply upset about this entire ordeal. His eyes fell to Megan, who was staring him down and her fist in her mouth. A look of determination replaced his disturbed appearance.

"Come on, move, move!" Ronald urged, "Move, move!" He turned to Dean, "And you lock it up." Dean started to move the door shut, pausing to look in at all of us.

"It's okay, everyone. Just stay cool." He said, shrugging at Sam and I in apology, but held a look with him that basically said, keep them safe. Sam nodded, allowing me to grip his hand tightly in mine after Dean slammed the door shut.

A young redheaded woman stared after him, "Who is that man?"

"He's my brother." Sam replied, worried.

"He is so brave." She cooed out, causing Sam and I to nearly roll our eyes. There might be a fight sooner than anticipated.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

As soon as I got a moment to breathe, I got out of that crappy uniform. Granted, it had cost us a pretty penny, but I was half-happy to at least be in my own clothes again. Ronald preceded into a series of offices with me in tow.

"Check behind the desk." I said, as I checked in a back room. Ronald let out a yell, followed by a loud thump. Running back out, I saw Ronald lying on the floor next to a slimy pile of skin, he let out a scream, stood and pointed his gun at it.

"What the hell is that?" Ronald asked, grossed out.

Flipping on a lamp, I turned it to the pile, "Oh, great." I blew out a breath, "When it changes form, it sheds its old skin. So, now it could be anybody."

Ronald picked up a piece of the skin and smelled it, "It's so, so weird. Its robot skin is so lifelike."

My patience was running thin, as in, if he were to do one more thing, I'd punch him in the face and leave him where he laid, "Okay, let's get something straight. It's, it's not a mandroid. It's a shapeshifter."

"Shapeshifter?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's human, more or less. Has human drives - and in this case it's money." I explained, "But it generates its own skin, it can shape it to match someone else's features, you know, taller, shorter, male—."

"So it, it, it kills someone and then takes their place."

I shrugged, "Kills them, doesn't kill them, I don't think it really matters." I searched around the desk.

"What are you doing?" I heard him ask as I picked up a letter opener from the desk and examined it. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Nice." I turned to him, "You remember the old werewolf stories? Pretty much came from these guys. Silver's the only thing I've seen that hurts them." I moved to the door, "Come on, Ronald." From behind me, Ronald grimaced at the skin, then followed behind, grinning form ear to ear. I smirked, reminiscing over the times that I had, at one point in time, been like that. I'm not saying that I couldn't blame him either. Some hunts were more exhilarating than others.

Down another hallway, Ronald was still chuckling to himself. I paused, turning back to look at him, "What are you, nuts?"

"That's just it. I'm not nuts. I mean, I was so scared that I was losing my marbles." He explained with a grin, "But this is real! I mean, I, I, I was right! Except for the mandroid thing. Thank you."

I stared at him for a moment, then nodded, "Yeah, don't mention it." Suddenly, the power cut out; a few of the emergency lights kicked on, "Dammit! No, no, no, no, no, no."

"What? What is it?" Ronald asked, looking startled.

"They cut the power. Probably their way of saying hi." I replied.

"Who?" He asked.

"The cops." I stated in a matter of fact tone. _Who else would I be talking about_?

"The cops?!"

"Well, you weren't exactly a smooth criminal about this, Ron." I told him, "I mean, you didn't even secure the security guard. He probably called them."

"Well, I, I didn't, I didn't think t –"

"All right, hang on, hang on, let's just take a breath here for a second, all right? They — they've probably got us surrounded. They've cut the power to the cameras so there's no way of telling who the shapeshifter is...I mean, I know someone who can, but…" I rubbed my face trying to think, and I knew what it was going to boil down to…as much as I hated it, "It's not looking good, Ron."

Ronald flinched at a noise, bringing the rifle up.

"Did you hear that?" I asked.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Vault**_

Great. We were now in the dark. It was beginning to get hotter than the space between Satan's ball sack, Sherry didn't shut up, and I had a pissed off seven month old. Awesomeness all around.

"Has your brother always been so, um, wonderful? I mean, staring down that gun. And you know the way - he played right into that psycho's crazy head, telling him what he wanted to hear, I mean," Sam stared at her, knowing what kind of hell she would catch if he'd let me near her, "He's like, a real hero or, or something."

"Yeah. Yeah." He muttered, shaking his head.

The door opened to reveal Dean, and he had an accessory; a handgun. Sam and I looked to him from where we were at, back against a wall.

"Oh my god, you saved us! You saved us!" Sherry exclaimed a little too enthusiastically for my taste.

"Actually, I just found a few more." Dean said, "Come on, everybody, let's go. Let's go." Sherry stare in confusion as several more people, including the guard from earlier, came inside. Dean scanned the crowd for us, seeing where we were at, and not to mention, hearing Megan's screams. She was absolutely miserable.

"What are you doing?" Sherry asked, anxiously. Dean ignored her as he came into the vault further. We met him halfway, allowing him to look us over for some kind of injury. I rolled my eyes at her when she gave me a dirty look, turning my attention back to Megan.

"You guys okay?" He asked in a low voice.

Sam nodded, glancing to me before focusing back on Dean, "Yeah, we're fine…"

"But, Megan's getting too hot and she's probably getting hungry." I finished, wiping away a few beads of sweat off of Megan's nose when she looked up at me with a whimper. Dean nodded, obviously troubled about how things were going down and the situation the four of us were in.

"Look, uh, Ronald and I need to talk to the both of you." Ushering us towards the front, the three of us left the vault. Dean shut the door behind us, shrugging apologetically to the rest of the hostages who were cursing and shouting out of protest. Once it was closed, Dean turned to us with a grim expression, "It's shed its skin again. We don't know when - it could be in the halls, it could be in the vault."

"Great." Sam sighed out, exasperated no doubt. I looked towards the windows seeing the flashing of red and blue lights growing anxious. The cops were determined to bring us down, and I think Dean knew it from the look on my face when I sensed his dread. My eyes flickered to him with an apologetic look.

"You know, Dean, you are wanted by the police." I added in a soft tone.

Dean nodded at this, "Yeah." A smile tugged at his lips, belaying his true feelings about everything. I swallowed, looking down to our daughter for a moment, realizing if this entire situation was to go sour; not only would Dean be locked up, there would be a change that Sam and I would be locked up, neither of us seeing Megan again.

"So even if we do find this damn thing - how the hell are we gonna get out of here?" Sam asked furtively, anger bubbling under every word.

Dean paused and looked at him, "Well, one problem at a time. We have Abs and the baby out of the vault, which is a positive." He started with his shoulders lifting in a small shrug, "I'm gonna do a sweep of the whole place, see if we can find any stragglers. Once we get everyone together we've got to play a little game of find-the-freak, so . . . here." Dean handed Sam something, earning a curious look from me. Turns out, it was a silver letter opener. Dean turned to me with an apologetic look, "Found one for Sam, but I couldn't find any more."

I waved a hand dismissively at him, "It's all good." I reached into Megan's baby carrier, pulling out a sheathed knife, meeting Sam and Dean's stunned expressions, "What?" When neither of them spoke, I shrugged, "Y'all really thought I was goin' in without a backup knife?" I offered them a smile, then kissed the top of Megan's head, "No one thinks to check a baby."

A proud grin spread across Dean's face, "Please marry me. Right now." For a second, Sam stood beside us in total shock. Never in his life would he think he'd hear his brother say those words _willingly_. Sam glanced over to me.

I shook my head with a soft laugh, "Not right now, Winchester. We got things to do."

Dean tilted his head in acknowledgement, "Good point." Getting his head back into the game, he looked to the both of us, instantly changing his demeanor, "I need you stay here, make sure Ronald doesn't hurt anybody, okay? Help him manage the situation…" _And protect Abigail and the baby,_ I thought, knowing what the end of his sentence would be, had he finished it.

Anger flashed in Sam's eyes, "Help him _manage_?" He bit out harshly, "Are you insane?" Ronald looked over at us upon hearing Sam's voice raise, in which, Dean looked past us and gave him a grinning thumbs-up.

"Look, I know this isn't going the way we wanted—," Dean started.

"Understatement!" Sam shouted.

I smacked his arm, "_Sam_." He glared at me.

"But if we invite the cops in right now; Ronald gets arrested," Dean motioned between the three of us, "_We_ get arrested and Megan gets taken away," Sam looked down at that, "The shifter gets away, and we'll probably never find it again, _okay_?" I glanced over my shoulder seeing Ronald peer out of the window, in plain view. I cleared my throat while Sam gestured to him in exasperation.

Dean rolled his eyes, "Ron! Out of the light!"

"Seriously?!" Sam hissed.

"Yeah, Ron's game plan was a bad plan, I mean, it was a bit of a crazy plan, but right now crazy's the only game in town, okay? Abs, I need you to come with me since you're the only one in this place that can see the shifter."

"Roger, roger." I replied, bringing my arms around Megan in a silent prayer to keep us protected. The hum of voices had gotten louder than normal as I did so. There was a slurry of worry and concern about bringing Megan from both men, but it was a little too late to find a babysitter, "I'm not gonna do anythin' that's gonna put her in danger, guys." I said in an attempt to reassure them. Sam and Dean both exchanged a glance, "I'm just the eyes, nothin' else."

When Sam didn't say a word, Dean slapped him on the shoulder while I reached for his hand and squeezed it. He gave me a worried expression, "Be careful. The both of you."

"We will." I promised, feeling Dean's hand touch the crook of my arm, urging me to follow him, "Don't kill each other." Sam glanced to Ronald, then blew out a heavy breath in reply. I turned, following him brusquely down the hallway, keeping my wits about me. We moved smoothly and quietly down the first hall without a problem; I held the flashlight and knife while he had the gun in tow, the both of us listening for sounds and watching for movement. The both of us were definitely on edge—him more so than I.

We ducked when we came to large windows where the light from outside cast odd or eerie lighting. From our side of the hall, we noticed an office; Dean heading for it while I followed behind him. Upon entering, Megan let out another whimper, causing Dean to turn. Something about this place was off. I gripped the flashlight in one hand tightly while holding the knife and Megan close.

Something had caught Dean's attention, allowing him to gesture up to the ceiling. I shone the flashlight up towards the ceiling, also noticing that a ceiling tile was off center. Dean looked around us, spotting a coat hanger and grabbed it, pushing the panel up and away. About that time, I had stepped back when Dean had met some resistence, when moments later, a body had fallen out from the ceiling in a naked, unceremonious heap. The sound of the body crashing down caused me to jump while Megan began screaming.

With a grimace, Dean turned the body over showing that the throat had been slit, "This son of a bitch is going down."

"I second that." I replied, trying to calm our screaming child. Dean stood, stepping over the body in order to stand in front of me. He placed a shaking hand on Megan's back, overly concerned for the both of us.

"Abs, I gotta get you two out of this place." He told me, shifting his gaze from our daughter to me, "This was a bad idea from the beginning. I should've _never_ let you come with us."

I frowned, "Dean, you knew you needed help with this."

"Sam and I could've handled it." He bit out, "We have done it solo several times. This time is no different than the rest. Bringing Megan has to be the _dumbest_ thing we have ever done."

I cast my gaze to the floor, "I can't say that I don't agree with you, Dean. I do…" I shook my head, pulling my bottom lip in between my teeth and chewed at the dead skin for a moment, "But it's not only me and Megan in danger…it's a whole group of people. What's makes them any different?"

Dean slammed his hand on the desk, "There's no difference! Jesus Christ, Abs, think for a second! The both of us is putting our seven-month old kid in the middle of something that she has no part in! Don't you realize that she could _die_ if things go anymore South_?_" Again, I found myself looking to the floor like a scolded child.

Dean blew out a breath, then gently lifted my chin up so that I could look at him, "I don't want anything to happen to the both of you. You and Megan are everything to me, don't ever think anything less of that. If there's any kind of opening, it doesn't matter what, I want you and Megan out of here. Sam and I can handle it."

I nodded.

Dean's hands closed around each side of my face, "Abigail. Promise me, you'll leave this place."

"Okay." I said, blinking away tears, "…okay." Dean's hands fell away from my face. With what light that illuminated the room, his eyes were glittering with unshed tears as he held a pained expression. We both knew that every second here would possibly be our last, "We need to go tell Sam about the guard." I finally said.

Dean nodded, "Yeah."

We made our way back to the vault where Sam was waiting with Ronald. Upon seeing us, Sam glanced to Ron then approached us. The vault door was open with people gathered around an older man who was breathing hard and panicking; a man near him glancing our way every now and then, warily. It was everything in me to push the boys out of my way and shove my knife into his skull.

"Abs?"

I tore my gaze away, looking over to Sam and Dean, "It's the tall, dark one—the shifter." Sam's eyes widened a little, "Columbian necktie."

With a nod, Sam went into the vault, "You know what, Ronald? He's right, we've got to get this man outside."

From behind me, Dean pushed me forward lightly. I looked at him, seeing his silent plea. I furrowed my brows, and nodded, falling into place with Sam, "Come on." I told the older man, "I've got you."

"Yeah, yeah, let me help you." The shifter added quickly.

I stopped him, smiling, "Oh, we got him already. It's cool. Thanks." Megan writhed against me as Sam and I ushered the guard out of the way.

"Thank you." The guard said shakily, "Thank you."

"Sure." Sam said.

"... Thank you."

From behind us, I heard Dean say, "Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" I had the urge to turn when the shifter replied, "You got the gun, man. I mean, whatever." I looked over my shoulder, seeing him get close enough, then attacked—knocking Dean to the ground and running into one of the hallways. Sam and I paused, hearing Dean shout, "Don't! Get the guard out!" He got up and chased after him.

Ronald raced after them both, putting himself in the open again, "Stop! Come back here!" It was like time slowed down. As soon as Ronald stopped, the red dot of a laser sight remained on his back.

"Get down! Now!" Sam shouted. It was no use. A moment later, Ronald hit the floor, blood pooling underneath him. He was dead. Dean, Sam, and I stayed lowered; Megan tucked against me tightly as my breathing began to waver with several different emotions. Horror was becoming the main one as the hostages ran out of the vault and out of sight. Dean crawled behind another low wall near where Ronald fell, and Sam ducked down beside him.

I felt a hand tug at my arm, seeing the guard, "We got to get out of here." I looked back to see Sam taking off and Dean crawling to Ronald, bearing a guilt-ridden expression. Poor guy. Dean picked up the rifle off the ground, looking around him furtively, then spotted us. He was on his feet, ushering us both to our feet with complete urgency.

"C'mon. I gotta get you two out of here." Dean grunted out. We made our way back into the main lobby where there were cops and feds and everything the town could muster up, lined the street. Lights were flashing everywhere.

"Dean…" I stuttered out, "Don't."

"I gotta, Abs." He replied. The guard and I were in front of him. I was practically being pushed out of the front door. Megan was screaming at the top of her lungs. His hand held my arm tightly while I held onto the guard. Outside, several paramedics had pulled a stretcher out of a nearby ambulance.

"_Dean…_" I spoke in a hoarse voice, growing even more panicked.

"Everything's going to be alright, sugar-pie. Trust me." He replied levelly. I glanced back at him, seeing fear swirl around in them. Tears began to fall, "Everything's gonna be okay, trust me. Okay? I need you to trust me, Abs. Do it for me."

Cops were lined up, aiming their weapons as the guard shouted to them, "No, don't shoot! Don't shoot! Please!"

"No, no, no, no, no! Don't even think about it!" Dean shouted to them. I heard someone in the crowd shout, "There's a woman and a baby!"

I started to cry, "Dean, don't…please, don't!"

"Please! Don't shoot!" The guard continued to shout when we came close to the doors.

Dean was taking in everything; the media, the cops, the feds.

"Son of a –." He muttered, "I said get back! Now!" He shouted to the cops.

"Okay, go!" The guard stumbled out of the bank, heading toward the slew of cops and paramedics. I didn't budge, "Abs, go!" I couldn't speak when Dean shoved me forward, careful to not knock me off balance. Several cops came forward, ushering me and Megan away. Looking over my shoulder as I was being taken away, Dean shut the door and latched it.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

Watching Abigail and Megan disappear into the crowd, the fear of not getting out of here in one piece was becoming all too real, "We are so screwed." I muttered.

My phone began to ring. It was Sam, "Yeah?"

"_Slipped his skin._" Came Sam's voice.

"What?" I bit out. _This was unbelievable_!

"_Yeah_," Sam replied dryly, "_bastard shifts fast. A lot faster than the one in St. Louis_."

"God, it's like playing the shell game. It could be anybody. _Again._"

"_Yeah, I think most of the employees are out of the vault by now_."

I nodded, "Alright, you search every inch of this place, I'm gonna go round everybody up."

There was a pause, "_Did you get Abigail and Megan out?_"

I glanced over my shoulder, "Yeah. They're safe now." I heard him let out a relieved sigh.

"_Good_, _good_." He replied, "_Be safe_."

"Yeah, you too." I hung up the phone, slipping it back into my jacket pocket. My search for the hostages didn't take long. Herding them back into the vault, a mousy girl paused, turning to face me.

"And I thought you were one of the good guys." She chided.

"What's your name?" I asked her, receiving a dirty look from the girl.

"Why would you care?" She asked, folding her arms across her chest. Tears glittered in her eyes, as she glanced down, resigned. She was once again held up in the vault, once again, held at gunpoint. My heart went out to her.

"My name's Dean." I said gently. The tone of voice I held was one I _rarely_ held. Hell, it even surprised me. Things were heading South quicker than what I could assess and control. Ronald, whose heart was in the right place, was already dead. _Because of me_. A man was dead due to the shifter. _Because of me_.

One thing that I did right was get Abigail and Megan out of harm's way.

So, what was my deal? Was I scared?

Yeah. I was.

"I'm Sherry." The girl replied.

I offered her a smile, "Hi, Sherry." I told her, "Everything's gonna be all right. This will all be over soon, okay?" Shutting the vault door, I spun the lock as a landline rung. Blowing out a breath, I set down my handgun and answered it.

"Yeah?"

"_This is Special Agent Victor Henriksen_." A brusque voice sounded over the line. I swallowed hard. Fuck. The feds had made their landing.

"Yeah, listen," I began, "I'm not really in the negotiating mood right now, so ––"

"_Good. Me neither_." Henriksen interrupted me, "_It's my job to bring you in. Alive's a bonus but not necessary._"

I raised my brows at his tone, "Whoa." I had to admit, that threw me off, "Kinda harsh for a Federal Agent, don't you think?"

"_Well, you're not the typical suspect, are you, Dean_?"

My eyes widened in horror. _What the? Who the hell is this guy?_

"_I want you and Sam out here, unarmed."_ My heart nearly stopped. "_Or we come in. And yes, I know about her too. Bonnie to your Clyde_."

"Yeah, well, that part's true." I chuckled, "but how'd you even know we were here?"

"_Go screw yourself, that's how I knew_." Henriksen replied. "_It's become my job to know about you, Dean. I've been looking for you for weeks now. I know about the murder in St. Louis, I know about the Houdini act you pulled in Baltimore. I know about the desecrations and the thefts. I know about your dad._"

"Hey, you don't know crap about my dad." I responded.

"_Ex-marine, raised his kids on the road, cheap motels, backwood cabins. Real paramilitary survivalist type. I just can't get a handle on what type of whacko he was. White supremacist, Timmy McVeigh, to-may-to, to-mah-to_."

"You got no right talking about my dad like that. He was a hero."

"_Yeah. Right. Sure sounds like it._" Henriksen replied in a dry tone, "_I also know he took in a girl thirteen years ago."_ My heart stopped in my chest, "_Goes by Janis Joplin?"_ I ran a hand down my face. This wasn't good, "_Turns out, Janis Joplin has a real name—Abigail Colt. Now, I've been told she's never too far from you and your brother, your own personal shadow. Burned her parents and little brother and sisters up in a house fire."_

"You don't know a damn thing about her." I snarled out.

Henriksen let out a chuckle, "_Oh, but I do, Dean. Her father was just as messed up as yours, Dean. I hear they were best friends back in the day." _I clenched my fist at his words, "_Little Abigail has a rap sheet under Janis Joplin_ _a mile long—misdemeanor charges on vandalism, battery, assault, reckless driving, a few B and E's…the list goes on, Dean._" He commented.

"You hear an awful lot when you don't know _dick_." I hissed.

There was a brief pause; the sound of papers being flipped through, and a low-whistle sounded over the phone, "_What have we got here?_" He asked, "_Abigail gave birth to a bouncing baby girl seven months ago._" My heart sunk, "_Scum like you procreating—poor kid's gonna be pretty messed up when she gets older, Dean._"

"Listen here, you son of a bitch. Leave Abigail and my daughter alone. They don't have a dog in this fight, you hear me?!" A flare of rage coursed through my veins at that.

"_Hitting a nerve?"_ The agent asked in a sweet tone, "_Good_. _You have one hour to make a decision or we come through those doors full automatic." _Henriksen hung up the phone, and the line went dead. Slamming the phone on the receiver, I squeezed my eyes shut and pounded my head in frustration. Pressing the heel of my palms against my eyes, I let them fall, gazing up at the ceiling with tears burning my eyes. There was more at stake here than what was being led on. I literally just sent Abigail and Megan into the lion's den.

If she got caught…I cleared the table, hearing the phone clatter loudly. I needed to find Sam. We didn't an hour. Staying near the vault I waited until Sam showed up.

"Hey." I greeted, picking up the gun, "We've got a bit of a problem outside."

"We got a problem in here." Opening the vault, what was left of the hostages flinches and looked around.

"Sherry? We're gonna let you go." I called out, seeing the mousy girl from earlier look up at me confused.

"What? Why me?" She questioned.

"Uh, as a show of good faith to the feds, come on." I urged.

Sherry took a step backwards with narrowed eyes, "Uh ... I think I'd, I'd rather stay here, with the others."

I stepped into the vault, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist." Sherry looked between Sam and I warily, noticing Sam fingering at Abigail's knife. After a long pause, she finally stepped forward.

Pushing Sherry into the hallway away from the vault, Sherry looked to the both of us, "I thought you were letting me go."

I shoved her forward, holding her head and forced her to look at the body that lay before us. Sherry let out a shrill scream, "Is that community theater, or are you just naturally that good?"

"This is the last time you become anybody. Ever." Sam spoke.

"No! Oh god!" She cried out, then proceeded to slump in the floor. I frowned at her, then glanced to the body, then to Sam. What was going on? Removing the rifle from my shoulder, I leaned the weapon against the desk near us and kneeled over her with the letter opener raised to finish this shifter off.

Sam stopped me, "Dean, wait, wait, wait." I looked up at him, "What's the advantage of this plan? I mean, fainting now wouldn't help it survive."

"Huh." I kneeled over the other body. There was a massive crash somewhere off in the bank, ultimately distracting me. Before I could register what was happening, the 'corpse' had lashed out and grabbed me by the throat. I struggled against it's hold, stabbing at it. The real Sherry apparently woke up, judging by the screaming. I looked over at them briefly, "Get her outta here!" I managed to get out, "Now!"

Sam and Sherry left, leaving me and the shifter tumbling around in the floor. Struggling to get some kind of opening, the shifter ended up getting an opening and kneed me in the chin before bolting out of the room. Dazed, I managed to get back to my feet, running out of the office in search of the shifter, who had gone down into the boiler room. I had to catch myself, pressing against a wall in order to avoid one of the feds that had entered the building.

Pausing at the door, I looked back over my shoulder to ensure that no one had noticed me and then entered, heading deeper into the boiler room. There was a noise behind me, causing me to turn, only to get slammed in the face by the shifter, and went down. It didn't take long for me to recover from the hit as I stood up and settled into a fighting stance, my eyes never leaving the shifter.

This son of a bitch was going down, or I was going to die trying.

I lunged forward, swiping at it with the knife, and missed. As it retaliated, we both locked, and I got two good head-butts in. Bringing the knife sideways, I slashed at the shifter again. He, she, _it_ grabbed my wrist and wrenched it up. My free hand grabbed her forearm; causing her skin to slip off stickily.

I dropped the skin, making a disgusted look, "Gross." In that moment of distraction, pain exploded from between my legs as the bitch took the opportunity and kicked me square in the crotch, then slammed my face into her knee. Grabbing her leg, I wrenched it back, shoving her against the wall and pinned her underneath me until I was able to ram Abs' knife into the shifter's chest. Pulling the blade out, the shifter fell to the ground, dead. I heard a sound from behind me and flinched. Turning around, I turned and kneeled as a uniformed man entered the room with a flashlight and stopped.

Fuck. I'd been caught

Ready to be taken into custody, the man threw me a SWAT uniform.

"Get dressed," He said. That was when I realized it was Sam.

"Jesus." I breathed out, getting to my feet, "You don't realize how glad I am to see you." I slid into the uniform quickly; it was a little big, but hey, it did the trick. Exiting the building, we passed numerous other SWAT team members and countless officers without detection. Making it to a set of stairs outside of a building, we climbed up them and turn into the deck of a parking garage, walking towards the car. There was no sign of Abigail and Megan. Getting in the car, Sam and I pulled off the masks, breathing hard, and sat in silence for a moment.

"We are so screwed." I muttered, seeing Sam nod minutely.

"Where's Abigail and Megan?"

I shook my head, "I dunno, but we can't stay here." Sam opened his mouth to protest, only to close it and looked down into his lap, deeply troubled. "I messed up."

Sam looked up at me with knitted brows, "What do you mean?" I started the car, pulling out, and away from the garage trying to avoid any kind of detection, "Dean…"

"I got a call from a fed," I started, feeling this knot at the pit of my stomach worsen with each passing second, "Some _Special Agent_ Henriksen…" Sam's brows rose, "He knows about Abs and Megan, and I-I _made_ them leave, straight into their hands."

"Dean, you couldn't have known." My brother said, worry evident in his voice, "I mean, maybe she got out of there before they realized who she was." I glanced to him, noticing that he wasn't even attempting to hide the fact that he was scared for them, "There's so many things to put into consideration…"

"Yeah, and all of them are bad." I cut in, smacking my hand against the steering wheel, "Every bit of this is my fault."

"Dean, you gotta have faith that she knows what she's doing."

"Faith?" I bit out, "What has _faith_ ever done for us, Sam? _Faith_ got dad killed, _faith_ got Abigail landed into the hospital several times, and _faith_ about got my kid killed!" By now I was shaking, "For all I know, Abigail is in cuffs and Megan is in some kind of social services office never to see us again. This brings this all back to it being _my fault_."

"I don't think she is, Dean," Sam replied in a soft tone, leaning forward a little. I glanced over at him with furrowed brows, then to the windshield seeing a folding piece of paper snugly placed in the windshield wiper. Sam opened the window, leaning out of it and managed to get it out. Opening it with shaking hands, he read what was written down.

"What?" I asked, glancing down at it, "What does it say?"

"Charlie's." Sam replied.

Waves of relief flooded me as I blinked back tears. She was okay. Both of them were heading South, and so were we.

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**A/N: Hey everyone! I'm so glad to say that the latest chapter is finally out! I can't tell y'all how much I appreciate every single one of you! I'm so sorry that it has taken me this long to get it out, but long story short, it's out! :D**

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**I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise.**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me or you can get a hold of me via Tumblr! I love receiving fan-mail for all three!**

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**Song for this Chapter: _Carry on_ by _Avenged Sevenfold_**

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**I want to thank _Ladysunshine6 _helping me out, and _SkyQueen1111_ for beta-reading. You two are the best!**

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**Ladysunshine6- Thanks love! It really means a lot! I'll definitely have to write a few instances for him in future chapters!**

**grapejuice101- I think everyone loves jealous Dean! He's such a turd! I don't think I will because I feel like that would cause a lot of conflict between Sam and Dean, and I don't think my heart could take it! I will definitely have to bring her along, they'd miss her if they didn't bring her!**

**angelicedg- Thank you! You know the saying, "Drunk talk is sober thoughts." There's been little blurbs in previous chapters that would possibly indicate so, but I think Abigail and Sam would have to hash it out!**

**sarahmichellegellarfan1- Thank you! I try to mix things up a bit to go from 'holy crap' to 'what the crap'. I hope it works to some kind of extent! haha.**

**Guest101- Thank you so much for your kind words! I really appreciate it! I feel that it's an important part of being a writer to be able to connect with the readers and communicate with them on a personal level. There's many people who just write, read the reviews, and doesn't even bother to respond to them. I feel that it makes the story that much better because it lets the readers know that I'm listening to them! And I have to add that I'm so jealous! I'd _love_ to go to England (not just because I'm a total Whovian/Sherlockian/Harry Potter buff, but I'm a total history nerd and a foodie)! I bet it's beautiful there!**

**Guest- Thank you for reviewing, even though I don't understand the bunch of threes! I'll take it as hearts! haha.**

**\- Thank you for reviewing! I hope you have enjoyed this chapter!**

**ebonywarrior85- That's awesome to hear! I'm so glad you liked it! So far, Season 11 has been sooo good! I mean, one of the episodes had me feeling all the feels, and then another had my jaw on the floor!**

**Guest- Thank you for the review! I will do my absolute best to post one up as soon as I can pinpoint the perfect picture that would fit what I think Megan would look like and I'll let you know as soon as I do on here and on Tumblr! (:**

**Guest- Thank you for the review! I'm so glad you like the story! I will do my best to have her attend future adventures!**


	18. Houses of the Holy

_I wasn't always this way_

_I used to be the one with the halo_

_But that disappeared when I had my first taste and fell from grace_

_It left me in this place_

_Now I'm starting to think maybe you like it_

_I tear you down_

_I make you bleed eternally_

_Can't help myself_

_From hurting you and it's hurting me_

_I don't have wings so flying with me won't be easy_

_Cause I'm not an angel, I'm not an angel_

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**_Dean's Point of View_**

Driving away from that clusterfuck, Sam shifted in his seat uncomfortably when he hung up his cellphone. I glanced over to him. This was our fourth time trying to call Abigail, "Why isn't she answering her phone?"

I shook my head, "I dunno, Sam, but we can't stay here. It's too dangerous."

Sam opened his mouth to protest, only to close it and looked down into his lap, deeply troubled. "They're gonna be okay…aren't they?" he asked.

I clenched my jaw at his words. "I dunno…" I mentally cursed myself. "I messed up pretty bad, Sam."

Sam looked up at me with knitted brows. "What do you mean?" I didn't speak. "Dean…" he urged. "What do you mean, you messed up?"

"I got a call from a fed back there at the bank," I started, feeling this knot at the pit of my stomach worsen with each passing second. "Some _Special Agent_ Henriksen…" Sam's brows rose. "He knows about Abs and Megan, and I-I _made_ them leave, straight into their hands."

"Dean, you couldn't have known," my brother told me. "I mean, maybe she got out of there before they realized who she was." I glanced to him, noticing that he wasn't even attempting to hide the fact that he was scared for them. "There's so many things to put into consideration…"

"Yeah, and all of them are bad," I cut in, smacking my hand against the steering wheel. "Every bit of this is my fault."

"Dean, you gotta have faith that she knows what she's doing."

"_Faith_?" I bit out. "What has _faith_ ever done for us, Sam? _Faith_ got dad killed, _faith_ got Abigail landed into the hospital several times, and _faith_ about got my kid killed!" By now I was shaking. "For all I know, Abigail is in cuffs and Megan is in some kind of social services office never to see us again." Sam held a sour expression. "This brings this all back to it being _my fault_."

"I don't think she's in trouble, Dean. She's one of the best hunters we know," Sam replied in a soft tone. However, he leaned forward in the seat with a scrunched face, inspecting something. With furrowed brows, I glanced over at him, noticing that he was looking at something through the windshield.

"What is that?"

"I…I don't know," Sam murmured. "A folded up piece of paper?" He glanced at me, confused. Sam then opened the window, leaned out of it and managed to get it out from under the wiper. Opening it with shaking hands, he read what was written down.

Trying to focus on driving, I kept glancing to my brother, eager to know what was written on it. "What?" I asked. "What does it say?"

"Hide and Go Seek," Sam breathed out. "What does that mean?"

"Hide and Go Seek," I muttered, mulling those words over in my head until it finally clicked; she was okay. "Abigail went into hiding." I swallowed down the knot that was sitting firmly in my throat. "She must've knew that they were looking for her."

Sam turned in his seat. "But where would she be hiding?"

"The only place that she knows she can get to in under twenty-four hours…"

Realization dawned on Sam, then he started to laugh out of relief. "She went to Charlie's." He reached out his arm and slapped my shoulder. "They're alright, Dean."

I forced a smile, nodding at his words. That impossibly stubborn assed woman, slipped out from under the radar before they even realized who she was. Sam made a valid point, she _was_ one of the best hunters we knew. Abigail was a quick thinker, wilder than Jesse James himself, and could easily knock down a man two sizes taller than her, and still yet, made the slip, right under the feds' nose. Pride flourished in my chest.

_That's my girl._

Neither of us attempted to sleep the trip down—we were too wired from the fiasco with the shapeshifter and the feds. Sam kept firing off a million different questions, in which, I had little to no answer to. The main one that had us overly concerned was wondering who the hell this Henriksen was, and how he managed to find out about Abigail and Megan.

"She was supposed to be a ghost in the system for cryin' out loud!" I exclaimed, shaking my head.

_Scum like you procreating—poor kid's gonna be pretty messed up when she gets older, Dean_. My knuckles gripped the steering wheel until they were stark white. I would've _gladly_ ripped this son of a bitch, Henriksen's lungs out. He knows _nothing_ about Abigail _or_ Megan. He doesn't know what happened to her family, and he sure as hell doesn't know jack shit about my daughter.

"What if we're missing something, Dean?" Sam questioned, breaking me away from my thoughts. "I mean, this Henriksen obviously knew a lot about us."

I glowered at him for a moment before turning my attention to the road. "Yeah, _too_ much," I muttered. "He knows everything about Abigail; her family, her rap sheet…I mean, it was like he was reciting a damn project to his favorite teacher or something." I clenched my jaw until it hurt. "The guy knew about Megan, Sam."

"I don't understand why the feds would want Abigail," Sam murmured thoughtfully. "I mean, yeah, she's got a rap sheet a mile long of nothing but misdemeanors…but that doesn't explain anything."

"They want her in because of her sudden disappearance after her parents and kid sisters and brother died. She practically vanished, no thanks to us," I added, seeing Sam tilt his head in acknowledgement. "Whatever is going on, we need to lay low."

"Right."

"It's a good thing Abs thought of going down to Charlie's. Smart move on her account," I stated. "That's what Dad would've done, as well as her dad."

"Family tradition."

I smirked, "Family tradition."

By the time we were driving on the interstate outside of Charleston, the sun was beginning to set across the Appalachian Mountains in an array of brilliant colors ranging from purples, reds, and oranges—a unique sorbet of some kind…Abigail's words, not mine.

Taking a hand off of the steering wheel, I ran a hand through my hair, trying to keep focus on the road. I shook my head, doing everything in my power to stay awake. Upon turning onto a familiar stretch of road, the further my foot went down on the pedal. The roar of the engine filled the cab with Metallica blasting over the speakers.

"Uh…Dean?" Sam broke the silence. "Don't you think you're going fast enough?"

"Not at all, why?" I asked. Sam's eyes flickered over to the speedometer.

"Because going seventy on a gravel road is something Abigail would be doing and not you," he replied pointedly.

"It'll be fine," I muttered, half-distracted as I drove along the winding road, then turned off through a set of gates, leading up to Charlie's home. I honestly couldn't have driven any faster. Hearing the tires lock and screech, we had pulled to a stop in front of the house. I was already out of the car before Sam could even begin to step out, expecting Abigail or someone to be coming out. We exchanged a nervous glance when the door opened, Charlie stepping out.

"Yer a sight for sore eyes," he said meeting us on the pavement. "What the hell's been goin' on?"

"Shapeshifter," Sam answered quickly as Charlie clapped his hand on his shoulder in his form of a greeting.

Charlie let out a low whistle, "Them are some _nasty_ fuckers…"

"You're not close to kidding, Charlie," I muttered, too tired for my own good.

Approaching me, Charlie clapped his hands on my shoulders, chuckling. "You two sure caused a proverbial shit storm in Milwaukee, that's fer sure," he added. "Feds and cops crawlin' everywhere. Damn lucky you two made it out in one piece."

"Yeah, we got out by the skin of our teeth," I replied. "Have Abigail and Megan made it?"

Charlie nodded, "You know she did. Got here a couple of hours ago." I hung my head, relieved, then nodded. "Megan's sound asleep, but Abigail's wired. I'm surprised—"

"Sam! Dean!" Charlie, Sam, and I turned, hearing Abigail's voice.

"There she is," he commented as she emerged from the barn, and came at us in a dead run.

"Abs?" Her name passed through my lips like a prayer. She practically tackled both Sam and I, wrapping her arms around our necks, crying. Letting her arm fall from my neck, she hugged Sam tightly, kissing him on the cheek and held his face in her hands as she inspected him with tears rolling down her face.

"You're okay?" she asked tearfully as Sam nodded, looking as if he had committed a murder.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he replied. "We're okay." Once again, she wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. I glanced to Charlie, who was touched by their reunion, and to be honest, I felt touched by it as well. She (and Megan, of course) was the only one who we looked forward to seeing if we left her behind. Sam and Abigail had always been close; especially when we were kids. Seeing them hug was like a blast from the past when she would bail him from daycare or school.

Hell, if anyone wanted to get real technical about it, it was like Sam hugging mom.

It was the tenderness she had for the both us that really made it hit home—it was motherly, and as kids, it was something we weren't really used to. I could even vouch for it because I was the dickhead that made a big deal about it. I thought she was trying to be some kind of replacement of our mom, when in reality, she wasn't. It was just her nature, the way she looked out after her younger brother and sisters; it was just her instincts. She was like me in more ways than one, and when I realized it, it almost cost her life on more than one occasion.

Standing before them, Abigail turned her attention to me, and to be honest, it was the moment I had waited for since I watched her get dragged off by cops and paramedics. As soon as she had let go of Sam, Abigail placed her hands on either side of my face, carrying a worried expression.

"I'm fine, Abs," I said before she could even ask. Her brows drew together as well as her mouth, _knowing_ I was lying. _Empath, right_? Allowing her hands to fall from my face, they folded together at my chest, finding that amulet of mine. Wrapping my arms around her, I pressed my lips against her forehead, reassuring her and me, that everything was okay. Having her back in my arms was like a puzzle finally coming together. However, the only piece remaining was our daughter, who was asleep.

"I've missed you so much," I heard Abigail whisper, her voice thick with emotion, "and I've never been so worried in my life." My chest squeezed painfully. "I thought…" Her head shook slowly before pressing her forehead against my shoulder.

"Hey," I began. "Thinkin's bad for ya, don't you know that?" I asked, entangling my fingers in her hair, "We're alright." I then pressed my lips against her temple. "Sammy and I made it here in one piece, right?" Abigail nodded her head while she pressed her face against my neck. I could feel her tears cool my skin whenever she would move. "And for the record," I dropped my voice low enough for only Abigail to hear, "I've missed you more than you'll ever know." Her arms snaked around my waist, tightening at my words. I smiled at that. "You're gonna be the death of me though."

She pulled away slightly with a scoff. "What the hell ever, Winchester."

I grinned at her."Hey, you never know." With a playful roll of her eyes, I caught the glimpse of a smile working its way across her face.

"C'mon, let's go inside," she said, taking the back of her hand and wiped at her face.

"I was beginnin' to wonder if we were or not," Charlie added, sending her a smile. Abigail then shook her head with a soft chuckle. "Colder than a witches' titty out here."

"You got that right," I agreed. "I'm starving."

"Dean," Sam chided.

I shrugged, "What? I am."

"Kara's got a couple of chickens in the oven," Abigail said taking our hands in hers. "We've been cookin' all evenin'." Sam's brows rose at that, and my mouth watered, reminding me again, that I was starving. Walking inside, the smell of chicken cooking filled my senses, followed by the scent of mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans. One thing I noticed new was the amount of baby gates lining the place.

"I see that you've, uh, made some changes," I said. "Nice remodeling," I commented, seeing Charlie start laughing.

"Yeah, Gavin's been mobile for the past few months," he replied. "Gets into everythin' he can find or reach. Be prepared for whenever that little firecracker upstairs starts movin' around good."

I chuckled, "I'll be counting on that, Charlie."

"She'll be a handful, that's fer sure," he agreed. "Just about tore out my hair." His hand went to the beard that he was now sporting, then gestured to the house. "Make yourselves comfortable, hell, y'know the drill. Grab y'all a beer."

And that's what we did.

I joined Abigail on the couch with a beer in hand, where she settled perfectly under my arm. It was just us, since Sam decided that a shower was the next best thing to do in what time we had in our sanctuary. Of course, this allowed me to replay the events from yesterday over and over, reliving each hair-raising and heart stopping moment. Hell, Henriken's phone call was like a broken record…that bastard.

Yeah, I knew I was a piece of shit, but a bad father wasn't in the description.

Hell, maybe I was.

I worked my jaw oddly, staring down the mounted elk hanging across the room from me with the intent of wrapping my hands around its neck had it chose to spring to life. Taking a long pull of my beer, the smooth taste of the hops and whatever ingredients this beer held coated my mouth like a shroud. I felt Abigail slip her arm around my waist, allowing the rage and anger in my chest to lessen. Glancing down at her, I didn't have to worry about whether or not they were in danger. They were okay, they were with me, and that alone took a big weight off my shoulders, as I know it had to have taken some kind of load off Sam's.

Of course, this also brought forth a new sense of worry on how hunts are gonna go from here on out. With our identities plastered on every news channel, I couldn't risk the three of us getting caught and never seeing my baby again.

"Dean, stop worryin'," Abigail spoke in a soft tone. I rose my brows at her words as she tilted her head at an odd angle to look up at me, then dropped her gaze to my chest where my necklace hung. Taking it between her fingers, I closed my free-hand around them, feeling the silky texture of her skin. "Everyone came out fine. No one got arrested."

"Yeah, you got a point, I guess," I muttered.

"I _know_ I have a point," she replied in a matter of fact tone, which caused me to chuckle at how confident her voice sounded. I gave her my bottle, allowing her to take it, turning it up as she took a drink and handed it back to me. "I'm surprised you remembered what hide and go seek meant."

"Mind like a steel trap, sweetheart."

"Only when it benefits you," she quipped.

I scoffed at her playfully. "Okay." I met her gaze with a grin, "Witch."

Abigail raised her brow, smirking. "Punk." Like a flip of a switch, her smirk grew into a smile I had grown to love as her gaze flickered towards the stairs, leading up to where our room was at, or wherever Megan was passed out. There was this warmth to it that nearly caused me to lose my breath. It was something I damn near lived for, and can barely remember. The only way I remember, is by a photograph and by Abigail.

It was the smile of a mother.

"I'll be back," she told me, raising up off of me, stood up, then ran her fingers through my hair as she walked by. Of course, I leaned every inch of the way, savoring it with hooded eyes, before watching her retreat up the stairs, catching her little glance from over her shoulder.

I licked my lips, pulling my bottom lip in between my teeth. That evil, evil woman. I loved the way her hips swayed as she walked. That little smirk she had ghosting her features was enough to kill a man. I shook my head whilst raising my brows, and pressed the bottle to my lips, taking another swig of beer. "That woman's poison," I muttered, after swallowing down the last of my drink.

"Look who just woke up," Abigail said happily, returning down the stairs with my sweet baby girl in her arms.

My smile grew wider as I put my empty beer bottle down to reach out and hold her. "Hi, baby girl," I said, giving her a kiss on top of her head. She looked up at me through her long lashes, giving me a lopsided grin with her fist in her mouth. "Dad's missed you, you know that? But it's okay." I leaned back in the sofa, holding her close to my chest. "I'm here now, and I ain't leavin'."

Abigail remained standing with her arms crossed; a hand hiding the same, warm, smile on her face. I looked up at her, seeing the smile glittering in her eyes. They were so full of love—love that I didn't deserve, but received without end. I wouldn't ask for it any other way though.

Sam was second to come down the stairs, wearing a completely different set of clothes, and showered; appearing more refreshed than tired. Upon seeing Megan, he grinned, coming up to us, and he ruffled her hair. "Hey butterball!"

_Butterball?_ "Really, Sammy? My kid's not fat." I glared at him.

Sam blinked a couple of times. "Abigail said it was fine," he retorted. I turned to her and she held her hands up.

"That child needs a bath," Abigail said, taking her out of my possession. "Wanna help?"

I raised my eyebrows at her proposition. "Me?"

"Yes," she answered with a smirk and a nod. "It goes with the job of being a parent."

I got up from the couch and followed her to our bathroom where there was a small, infant sized tub _in_ the tub. It was already filled with a few inches of warm water. I watched at how quickly Abigail had Megan stripped of her clothes and diaper, allowing her to shine in all of her glory, not that she minded one bit. I pursed my lips, understanding why Abigail keeps saying that she's definitely my child.

_The apple didn't fall far from the tree on that one_, I mused, watching Abigail interact with our daughter. She held Megan against her, grinning from ear to ear as she gently squeezed a place on her hips—the same place where I would normally get Abs—tickling her, eliciting a series of squeals and babbles from Megan. She would then start laughing, flailing her arms wildly before Abigail curled her belly to her mouth and blew a loud raspberry, eliciting another cackle. Megan stared straight at me with the biggest, toothless smile on her face as she laughed.

Lemme tell you, if I never live to see the light of day again, I would die a happy man and hope to relive this moment for the rest of eternity; because before me was nothing but perfection.

"Alright, alright, quit hoggin' her," I chided, gathering Megan in my arms. "Your momma's a child hog. Yeah." Megan grinned again.

"Bite me, Dorkchester," Abigail quipped, shrugging out of her jacket and button up shirt, leaving her in a black AC/DC shirt—which was mine—then leaned forward, gathering her hair up in a scraggly bun.

"Anytime, sweet-cheeks," I replied, throwing her a wink.

In return, she just rolled her eyes. "Alright, Romeo, let's get her bathed. I'd take that jacket off if I were you," she said, gesturing to my leather jacket. I looked down at it, then back up at her.

"Why?"

"'Cause if not, you'll get soaked; little bit doesn't play nice," she replied with knowing smile.

I shook my head, "Nah, she won't be too bad."

"This is comin' from someone who _knows_ what that child is capable of," Abigail offered again.

I pursed my lips, shaking my head once again. "I'm cherry."

In response, Abigail raised her hands in defeat. "_O_kay then. Your bath." We got Megan in the tub and I held her up so that she was standing in the water. She wobbled around, seeming to enjoy the time she had on her feet until she started splashing around and kicking with enthusiasm. I pursed my lips when a tidal wave of water washed over my face.

Again, Abigail was right. My daughter didn't play nice.

"Alright, Aquaman, calm yourself," I said running my face along my jacket sleeve, hearing a breathy laugh from beside me. I looked over to Abigail with a faux glare, meeting a look of pure admiration and amusement.

"Told you," she said. I rolled my eyes at her, turning my attention back to Megan, who was still kicking the water. I couldn't help but smile at her innocence, the way her face brightened up at her movements was like the cherry on top. Abigail got the soap and scrubbed her down into a rich lather. "She's strong," I commented, catching a small nod from Abs.

"Just like her daddy," she said, peering over at me through her lashes. Resting her arms against the tub, Abigail leaned over, pressing her lips against mine.

We pulled away, just a hair. "But beautiful just like her mom," I added, kissing her back, then again, pulled away. "I just want to say, I'm sorry."

Abigail furrowed her brows. "Don't, Dean," she stopped me. "It's okay. We got out of there before they could question me." She rinsed the cloud of bubbles off her hands. "They couldn't have gotten a good look."

I pressed my lips in a thin line, slowly nodding. "Look, Abs, I just worry about you—about Megan. If something was to go down, in a bad way, I'd never forgive myself," I replied, and Megan started to get fussy. "Okay, okay," I said to her. "You're squeaky clean." I picked up the towel Abigail brought in, and I wrapped my daughter in it.

"Trust me, Dean Winchester, I think we both know how to get out of a sticky situation," she pointed out, earning a tilt of my head, acknowledging it.

"You ain't even kiddin'," I muttered, bringing Megan out of the bathroom, laying her bundled up in the towel. "Trust me, kiddo, I know how you are." Megan just looked up at me with an innocent expression. "You're like a fire hydrant as soon as cold air hits you." Megan cooed in response, making me grin. I kissed her forehead, and saw Abs bring out a sleeper onesie; it was pink and had the words 'I Googled the word cute and saw my baby pictures' scrawled across it.

Abigail made quick work of putting a diaper on her, getting the sleeper on her, then heard a knock on the door. It opened as Sam poked his head in. "Hey, Kara's done cooking."

"Oh, thank god," I said. "I'm starving."

Sam opened the door fully. "Dude, we know already."

"Well, I ain't lying," I replied. "We haven't eaten anything good in twenty four hours."

Sam rolled his eyes, crossing the room where Megan was at, smiling. "Hey, pretty girl," he said, kneeling down at the edge of the bed. "Did you just get out of the bath?" Abigail and I watched as she failed her arms and legs, blowing out quick breaths at Sam. He let out a soft chuckle, gathering her in his arms. "I'm stealing her for a while."

"What?" I asked.

"It's fine, Dean," Abigail answered. "He's just as entitled to spend time with her as we are." I pursed my lips, then shrugged.

"I'll see you two downstairs," Sam said.

"Yeah, fine. Whatever," I muttered, watching as Sam walked out of the room with her, grinning like a kid in a candy store. Despite the sour look, I was more than happy to know that Sam was attached to her. Should anything ever happen to Abigail and I, Sam would be the first person I'd want to settle down with someone and raise her—and I wouldn't expect anything less of that.

Abigail sat down beside me, lying back. Doing the same, the both of us let our legs hang off the side, where we both remained silent for a good minute.

"Ronald died because of me," I told Abigail. She turned her head to look at me with a solemn expression, "I couldn't save him."

"Dean, you did the best you could," she said, reached over to take my hand in hers, squeezing it softly. "You know we can't save everyone."

"That's the _point_, isn't it?" I asked. "_Saving_ people?"

"Ronald was a good man, but a very foolish one." Abigail's eyes steeled. "He knew the danger of being out in the open like that. You told him not to."

I frowned. "But I could've _done_ something."

"You did do somethin', Dean. You killed that shapeshifter, therefore, savin' more than one life." Abigail reached over, placing her hand against my cheek. "You did what we were supposed to do. You know what the odds were."

"But Ronald was _innocent_."

"A lot of people who are in these ordeals are innocent, but they also pay the price—you know that," she replied.

"The feds know who we are; you and Megan included," I told her.

Abigail held her lips in a thin line, nodding slowly. "I know," she murmured.

"I talked to one of them," I continued. "An Agent Henriksen." I worked my jaw oddly. "It was like the guy knew every single detail about us…"

"I know you aren't tellin' me this because it involves just us…" Abigail mused. "What'd he say about Megan?" I frowned, sitting back up and leaned forward as Abigail placed her hand on my shoulder. "Dean…what'd he say?"

"That scum like me doesn't need to be procreating," I replied, looking over to her from the corner of my eye. Abigail seemed deeply troubled by that, but not surprised.

"I had someone tell me somethin' close to that," she admitted. "It wasn't directed towards me, because they didn't know…but lemme tell you somethin', Dean. Megan isn't gonna be screwed up when she gets older. We'll make sure of it."

I nodded, "Yeah, that's for damn sure."

"She doesn't need to live this kind of life, doesn't need to know what we deal with."

"One thing I know for sure, is that she will be _safe_," I added.

Abigail smiled. "That she will, because she has the best dad a girl could ever ask for, and a gigantic moose of an uncle, too." I laughed, hanging my head as I did so as Abigail leaned into me, smiling. I leaned in to her, pressing my lips to her smile, bringing my hand to her back as she melded closer to me. Her fingers had found their way to my scalp where she knotted them in my hair, allowing me to splay my other hand on her hip, pushing the fabric of her shirt up, exposing some of her skin.

"I love you, Abs. I want you to know that," I murmured as we parted, seeing surprise grace Abigail's features. I didn't blame her for the expression, it wasn't a word we often said to each other. In fact, it probably needed to be said more—especially to her. All I could think of was how close things had gotten yesterday; the fear of never seeing Sam, or Abigail, or Megan was all too real, and it honestly scared the shit out of me.

Abigail placed her hand on my face. "I love you too, Dean. Don't ever think anythin' less of that."

"I know," I replied. "What I don't know is what you see in me. I mean, look at me…I'm just some drunk killing machine."

"I could say the same thing," Abigail replied, a frown pulling at her mouth. "I mean, all I am is some backwoods hick."

I scoffed. "Yeah, okay," I commented sarcastically. "You're not just some _backwoods hick_."

"And you're not some drunk killin' machine," she shot back with an encouraging smile. "Your heart's in the right place, Dean. You do anythin' in your power to keep us safe—"

"But I can't," I interrupted her. "I didn't—" Abigail pressed a finger to my lips, silencing me.

"Let me finish before you go all melodramatic on me," she said with a chuckle. "You make me want to choke you out till your eyes pop out when you do that." I knitted my brows at her, confused. "Do a little less self-loathin'. There's more to life than hatin' yourself, especially when you have me, a little big brother the size of a house, and a kid that loves you unconditionally."

"Maybe you should do the same," I pointed out, seeing confusion float in her eyes for a moment. "I might be a high school drop out with six bucks to my name, but I'm smarter than what meets the eye. Don't think for a second that I don't see it in you, because I do, Abs."

"Yeah, maybe you gotta point," she mused.

"I _know_ I have a point," I quipped, earning a smirk from Abigail.

"Then maybe we need to take each other's advice," Abigail then suggested.

I thought about it for a minute, then nodded, "Alright. I can do that."

She raised her brows, lifting her hand, pinky raised, "Promise." I arched my brow at her.

"What are we, five?" I asked.

"Dude," she said. "You gotta pinky promise."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Yeah, yeah…whatever." I laced my pinky with hers, then kissed her on the lips. Since, you know, you gotta a seal a deal with a kiss.

* * *

**_Abigail's Point of View_**

**_Psych Ward—Day_**

"Good morning. You're not the usual guy," the woman seated on her bed greeted warmly as I entered her room.

"No, uh, just fillin' in for him," I lied easily with a smile, glancing down the chart in my hands. "So how you feelin' today, Gloria?"

Gloria retained her warm smile. "I've never felt better."

I glanced up at her from the chart after skimming through her prognosis. "So, no disturbances lately?"

"You mean am I stark raving cuckoo for cocoa puffs?" she questioned, then shook her head no. "I know what people must think."

"I didn't' say that," I told her in a defensive tone. To be honest, the words didn't hold up much of a defense, because my ears didn't buy it. I came into this place thinking that this was just another nutjob, much to Dean's protests earlier.

Gloria shrugged, smiling slightly at me. "It's alright."

I fell silent for a beat, allowing the hum that was ever present take over my hearing. "What do you think?" I finally asked.

"I think what I saw was real," she replied with confidence. There was no sign of deceit, no lies. I placed the clipboard on a nearby table, taking a chair and lowered myself onto it, staring levelly at her.

"I'd like to know what you saw," I urged, seeing a flash of distrust. The look of someone who had retold their story a thousand times, only for it to fall upon deaf ears, "What did you see, Gloria?"

"It was all over the news," she told me. "I stabbed a man in the heart."

I smiled at her avoidance of the question. "I saw that, but that doesn't answer my question of what _you_ saw; not what you _did_."

The humming in my head increased.

_Blasphemy._ A voice whispered.

_Murderer._ Another added. I took a deep breath, trying to will the voices away. "Why would you do that?" I urged.

"Because it was God's will." Gloria replied, almost tranquilly—like she was telling me what was being served for dinner. The feeling I got from her didn't sit well with me; of course, walking up to someone and just stabbing them would be leaving me less than tranquil, so there's that.

"Did God talk to you?" I questioned.

_No._ The same voice responded quickly.

"No," Gloria echoed. "I get the sense God's a little busy for house calls. No, he…he sent someone."

"_Someone_?" I asked, stifling my annoyance the best that I could, to which, she responded with an airy laugh.

"An angel—" she elaborated. "It came to me in this beautiful white light, and it filled me with this feeling. It's, it's hard to describe."

"And this angel..." I trailed off.

"Spoke God's Word," Gloria finished with a warm smile.

I licked my lips, trying to wrap my head around this. The voices seemed upset; saying simple words like 'justified', 'smite', 'murderer', and 'blasphemy'. I scrunched my face at that, trying to make of what was being said. "And the Word was to kill someone?"

"I know, it sounds strange. But what I did was very important," Gloria replied. "I helped him smite an evil man. I was chosen. For redemption."

"This man you stabbed, did the angel give you his name?" I asked.

"No." I raised my brows at her response. "He just told me to wait for the sign. And the very next day I saw it, right beside the man's doorway. And I knew."

"Why him?" I pressed.

"I just know what the angel told me: that this man was guilty to his deepest foundations. And that was good enough for me," Gloria finished.

I nodded, "Alright. I appreciate you openin' up to me about it, Gloria. I think we're good." I stood up, taking the clipboard in my hands, and turned for the door.

Gloria smiled, nodding. "And Miss?" I paused, glancing over my shoulder to her. "You must be very important to God's plan…you have many angels watching over you." I smiled, unsure of how to respond to that.

Finishing with a mere nod, I exited Gloria's room. Walking down the hallway a way, I stopped near a window that overlooked the parking lot, spotting the Impala quickly. I brought my thumb to my mouth, chewing at the skin around my nail out of frustration.

I didn't understand the conversation with Gloria at all. I just knew she wasn't lying. She avoided my questions like the plague, which could mean two things; she knew more than what she's leading, or, she really didn't have an answer. I was for the first option. She was _too_ calm about stabbing this man. The piece de resistance, however, was saying that I was important to God's plan. What plan? What's so special about _me_? The voices had, by now, turned into a deafening roar. I grimaced, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment. This was beginning to become unbearable. Squinting through the pain, I noticed the window tremble as if there was some kind of seismic tremor causing it.

Instead, the humming had silenced, and a voice came from behind me. "Everything will be revealed in due time. Obstacles must fall into place in order for God's Will to be done." The window splintered as a result. I ducked, obviously taken off guard by the suddenness. I bolted down the hallway, not bothering to look behind me for the source of the voice. I went to the bathroom, locking myself in and backed away from the door, breathing heavily. Glancing to the mirror, a man stood behind me, near the grated window in the corner. I grew wide eyed with fear, turning to face him, only to realize, he wasn't there.

"What the hell is goin' on?" I demanded. "What _plan_ do you have with me?!"

"I don't have an answer for you," a man's voice replied. I snapped my head in the direction of the voice, seeing a man stand before me in a clean cut suit. "Bear with us, Abigail."

It took me a moment to get over my initial moment of shock before I was able to calm myself down. This wasn't the first time an unexpected guest 'miracled' themselves in an empty room with me. "When you say you don't have an answer, you really mean you're not obligated to tell me."

The man tilted his head in acknowledgement. "I cannot interfere."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, recognizing this man's voice, rather, his tone…it was familiar. "Who are you?"

"I cannot tell you."

I rolled my eyes at him, "Well damn, I usually like to be taken out to dinner before I get told by some random guy that God has plans for me." I was met with a squinted look of confusion. I shook my head at him. "It's just a sayin', don't hurt yourself tryin' to figure that out." I shoved my hands in my pockets, finding the small baggy of Vicodin I had acquired, to which, the man's gaze fell to the pocket before flickering back up to my face with a look of uncertainty.

"Do you hurt so badly you must steal medicine?" he asked.

"How'd you-?" I fell short on my sentence, catching a glimpse of a pair of black wings with a vision being three stories tall. "Oh. Yeah, angel." The man tilted his head to the side, surprised at my deduction. "I have these powers…I can see these supernatural bein's. You _are_ an angel, aren't you? Cause, I've seen demons, and they're not pretty. They make nightmares a happy thing."

A whisper of a smile graced his lips. "Yes, I am. I did not think you were one of the few who could see my true form." I smiled wryly at his comment.

"You'd be surprised what I've seen," I muttered. "But to answer your question, it's a human thing; you wouldn't know…"

"Maybe I could help, I can heal any wound," the man offered.

For some reason, a light-hearted laugh passed through my lips as I hung my head. "Listen, I don't want to sound rude, but, certain wounds you can't just heal with a snap of your fingers." After a beat, I worked my jaw oddly, taking a quick breath and focused back on this man's naïve expression. "So, why me?"

The man offered me a sympathetic look. "Just have faith, Abigail." I blinked, and he was gone. The windows and mirrors around me were shattered, but I was unharmed. Shoving this experience to the back of my mind, I exited the building where Sam was standing, waiting patiently. Upon seeing me, he met me halfway.

"So, what do you think then?" he asked, glancing over at me.

I shrugged. "Not sure what you want me to say, Sammy. I mean, you know I'm the first one to be all gun-ho about a case, but, I think she's took one too many happy pills and hallucinated that an angel came down from heaven and told her to kill someone." I heard him let out a heavy sigh. "To be honest with you, I don't think this is much of a case."

"Did she say anything else to you? Give you any kind of clue or hint as to what she saw?" Sam pressed, all too eager to find out more. "There _has_ to be more than what's being said. There just has to."

"Maybe there is, Sam. I ain't sayin' right off the bat that there ain't, because in all honesty, my spidey senses were tinglin'." I sensed a flourish of hope wash over me, catching a small smile grace Sam's features.

"So you trust me on this one?"

I looked over to him. "Of course…"

"But—" Sam started, growing a little concerned.

"_But,_ I'm givin' us two days to figure it out. We can't stay in one place long," I finished, seeing him nod.

"Of course," he agreed, shifting his hands on the steering wheel to a more comfortable grip. "So…"

I arched a brow. "_So…_?"

"Have you…you know, used anymore?"

I frowned, seeing the questioning look when he tilted his head my way. "No," I replied, suddenly feeling like the bag of pills in my pocket gained about a ton. "I'm not sayin' I don't have them on me, because I do…" Sam shot me a pointed look. "Before you go nine kinds of crazy, just hear me out, a'ight? I'm gonna dump them. I don't need to be back where I was at."

"No, you don't," he agreed.

"I hurt a lot of people back in the day, Sammy," I murmured, feeling the overbearing weight of guilt sit on my chest, "and I know I hurt Dean the most. If I could change it, I'd go back and do whatever I could…" I turned my head, seeing Sam's tight lipped expression as he stared ahead. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"I-I want to, Abs, I really do," Sam started. "But how many times have I found the bottles, and baggies, and whatnot? How many times I have had to get rid of that shit before Dean would get back?" I bowed my head in shame. "Abigail, there's nothing in this world that I want more is for you to kick this habit for good."

"I know, Sam," I murmured.

"Then why do it?" he pressed. "Why take the chance on possibly overdosing? Do you not care about us at all?"

"Of course I do," I replied. "I told you I'm gonna dump them."

Sam pulled the car over next to a ditch filled with water. "Then do it. Prove to me that you will, and that you aren't lying."

"Sam, I never lied," I whispered, trying to avoid Sam from hearing my voice crack. I pulled the bag of pills out of my scrubs.

"Jesus Christ, Abigail," Sam muttered. I clenched my jaw, opening the door and slung the pills into the ditch. My family was more important. Satisfied with the splashing sound, Sam pulled back onto the road.

"Sam…" I began. "If someone told you that you were bein' watched by angels, how would you respond?"

"What do you mean?"

"If someone you didn't know told you that you were bein' watched by angels, what would you say?" I asked.

Sam hefted his shoulders. "I guess, thank you? I mean, people say it all the time."

"I know, but this time, it felt different…like, there might be an actual possibility." I shook my head. "I mean, look at it this way; I got powers that no one knows about. I'm an empath, I see monsters, and I can half-ass read people's thoughts…"

"I dunno," Sam replied. "I mean, it could be something."

I shrugged. "It could be…then again, I could be goin' crazy."

"You _are_ crazy," Sam said, nudging me slightly with a smile. Pulling in at the motel, we came to a stop in front of our room where we got out, closing the doors in unison. Walking over to the door, Sam unlocked it and entered, then me. Inside the room, we saw Dean lying on the motel bed, which so happened to be a 'Magic Fingers' massage bed as he listened to music on his phone, with my daughter lying on his chest, passed out.

"Hey," Sam tried to gain his brother's attention, but he didn't bother to look up or acknowledge us. He looked over to me, obviously done with Dean's childish bliss. I shrugged, moving to the bed and leaned over, kissing him on the lips.

I grinned as his entire body jerked out of surprise, his eyes flying open and hands moving to Megan until he realized it was me, and smiled in return. "Hey, you," he said rather loudly over his music, allowing his hands to move from Megan to both sides of my face as he pulled me towards him in another kiss. Sam cleared his throat, reminding me that he was still there.

"Babe, you gotta lay down here, and try this out," he prompted. "There really is magic in the magic fingers," Dean said. "And Megan seems to be quiet."

"Papa-bear, as much as I love you and watchin' you spend quality time with our child, hand her to me before you brainwash her," I said seeing him pout, and handed me Megan. "Besides, you're enjoyin' that way too much."

"It's kind of making me uncomfortable," Sam added as I kicked my shoes off.

Dean shrugged. "What am I supposed to do? I mean, the both of you've got me on lockdown here, I'm bored out of my skull."

"Well, you have our daughter," I pointed out, seeing him tilt his head in acknowledgement of that. "Which, you're doin' an excellent job of tryin' to get her spoiled to that thing."

Dean then let out a snort. "For your information, _Mama-Bear_, I believe _I_ got _you_ spoiled to this thing, in which, we had some excellent results out of." My face turned beet-red out of my fiancé's quip.

Sam's face twisted into a look of disgust. "Oh, god. Really, Dean?" he chided. "I don't need to know what you and Abigail do."

Dean smirked. "Hey, she started it. I just finished it."

"Well, we weren't plastered on the eleven o'clock news as the bank robber," I retorted, getting back to the facts. "We can't risk you just walkin' into a government facility." Dean let out an irritated groan, lying back on the bed. Sam waved a dismissive hand at Dean as he turned to go into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. I sat Megan in her playpen with one of her toys, allowing me to stand at the foot of the bed near Dean.

Before I could get a sentence out, Dean leaned up, noticing that Sam was out of the room, and quickly wrapped his arms around my waist, dragging me onto the vibrating bed. I let out a small squeal that turned into a laugh. Tucking my face into the crook of his neck, where I began to kiss delicately eliciting a low, rumbling sound from within Dean's chest as he tilted his head over, exposing more of his neck.

"You keep doin' that, Sam's gonna be roomless for a while," I heard him mutter. At this, I smirked and bit him. His arm around my waist tightened as another low sound passed his lips. We hadn't been lying down together nor more than a minute or so before the bed made a dull clinking noise, ultimately slowing to a dead stop. Dean, who had been _really_ into the vibrations and what little foreplay he was receiving, let out a disappointed groan.

"Aw, dammit! That was my last quarter," he complained before hollering to Sam. "Hey! You got any quarters?"

"No," came his brother's reply, laced with irritation from our conversation just a few moments ago. Dean and I sat up as Sam walked out of the bathroom, and sat in a nearby chair.

"So did you get in to see that crazy hooker?" Dean asked.

"You mean, Gloria Sitnick?" I asked. "Yeah, I did."

"And we're not so sure she's crazy," Sam added quickly, causing me to furrow my brows a bit.

_That's not what I said_. He looked back to me with a meaningful glance, causing me to sigh, then stand up, moving over to the refrigerator where I opened it and got out a Dr. Pepper.

"She seriously believes that she was ... touched by an angel?" Dean pressed, still skeptical of the claims.

"Yeah. Blinding light, feelings of spiritual ecstasy—the works," Sam answered as I twisted the cap off and took a drink. "I mean, she's living in a locked ward and she's totally at peace."

"Oh yeah, you're right, sounds completely sane," Dean stated, sarcasm insanely evident in his voice. "What about the dude she stabbed?" he asked.

"Uh, Carl Gully," I replied, dragging a piece of paper across the counter. "She said she killed him because he was evil."

"Was he?" There was that million dollar question.

I turned, seeing that Dean was now up and leaning against the wall. "We don't know," I replied honestly. "I mean, _I_ couldn't find any dirt on him."

"He didn't have a criminal record," Sam explained, seeing Dean's brow arch. "He worked at the campus library, had lots of friends. He was a churchgoer."

"So then Gloria's just your standard-issue wacko," Dean summed up. Naturally, I agreed with him. "I mean, she wouldn't be the first nutjob in history to kill in the name of religion. Know what I mean?"

Opening my mouth to agree with Dean, Sam shot me a pointed look that said otherwise. I closed my mouth, pouting. I was the one sitting on the fence. With the right evidence, I could side with either one of them.

"No, but she's the second in town to murder because an angel told them to," Sam pointed out. "Little bit odd, don't ya think?"

Dean tilted his head. "Well, little odd—yes. Supernatural—maybe," he agreed. "But angels? I don't think so."

I furrowed my brows. "Why not?" I spoke up.

"'Cuz there's no such thing, Abs."

I scoffed. "Dean, there's ten times as much lore about angels as there is about anythin' else we've ever hunted."

"Yeah, you know what? There's a ton of lore on unicorns too. In fact, I hear that they, they ride on silver moonbeams, and they shoot rainbows out of their ass."

"Wait, there's no such thing as unicorns?" Sam asked, seemingly crestfallen by the news. I stood by the counter, absolutely heartbroken by the news—Dean knew it.

By the looks he gave both Sam and I, he was a hundred percent done. "That's cute, guys. Really cute," he said sarcastically, "I'm just saying, there's just some legends that you just, you file under 'Bullcrap'."

"And you've got angels on the bullcrap list," I said, seemingly hammering the nail on the head, due to Dean nodding. I pursed my lips.

"Why?" Sam asked.

Dean looked to us. "Because I've never seen one."

"So, what?" Sam scoffed out.

"So, I believe in what I can see," he said.

Like Sam, I was beginning to become irritated, much more than he was becoming. "Dean," I spoke slowly; a warning lingering in my tone, seeing his eyes flicker to me briefly.

"You and I have seen things that most people couldn't even dream about," Sam argued.

"Exactly—with our own eyes. That's hard proof, okay?" Sam shook his head at his brother. "But in all this time I have never seen anything that looks like an angel. And don't you think that if they existed that we would have crossed paths with them? Or at least know someone that crossed paths with them? No. This is a, a demon or a spirit. You know, they find people a few fries short of a happy meal, and they trick them into killing these randoms."

Sam turned, then gestured towards me. "Abigail, you've seen things that you can't even begin to explain. You'd know if you saw something like that, wouldn't you?" he pressed, then all eyes were on me.

"Maybe," I stated, thinking back to the times that I had saw this mystery, winged man with a red lollipop in his hand hanging around the hospital after Megan was born. "Do I think Angels exist? Hell yeah, I do." Dean rolled his eyes. "It makes sense, Dean, whether you want to believe it or not. If there's demons, why not angels?" Sam smirked. "Yin to your Yang."

"Can we just —" he started to argue, then shook his head, beginning to pace like a wild animal in a cage. "I'm goin' stir-crazy, guys." I rolled my eyes at his aversion of the truth. "Hey, let's go by Gloria's apartment, huh?"

"We were just there. Nothin'," I replied, seeing him deflate. "No sulfur, no EMF ..."

"You didn't see any fluffy white wing feathers?" he pressed, earning a withering look from me.

_Asshole._

"Gloria said the angel gave her a sign," I mentioned. "Right beside Carl Gully's doorway."

"Could be something at his house; it's worth checking out." I waved him off dismissively. I wasn't leaving the motel room. Instead, I took the opportunity to curl up to my bundle of squish, and take a nap before I went on a homicidal killing spree because of my hard-headed fiancé that is Dean Winchester.

* * *

**_Sam's Point of View_**

**_Carl Gully's House_**

"Oh hey, Sam," I heard Dean call out. "I think I found it," he said, gesturing to a plastic angel figure to the left of the front door, "It's a sign from up above." I turned, seeing the plastic figurine as Dean chuckled to himself, peering through a window. "Well, I think I learned a valuable lesson: Always take down your Christmas decorations after New Year's, or you might get filleted by a hooker from God."

"I'm laughing on the inside," I muttered sarcastically, wandering around back through a gate with Dean following behind; finding a wooden storm cellar. "You know, Gloria said the guy was guilty to his deepest foundations."

Dean looked to me. "You think she literally meant the foundation?"

I tilted my head. "There's only one way to find out." Kneeling down at the lock, I reached into my coat pocket, taking out the lock picking kit. I made short work of it, pulling the lock away. Dean and I opened the doors and went down the steps, shining flashlight.

Down in the cellar, it didn't take us long to feel that something wasn't right. Dean let out a low hum, looking around another area of the cellar, while I looked in another part, noticing scratched on a wall near the floor. With knitted brows, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I leaned over to get a closer look. "Hey."

Dean turned towards me. "You got something?" I dug at the wall, pulling a thin piece of hard material out. I swallowed hard, realizing what I was holding, and couldn't find the words to say. Dean came up from behind, looking at it. "What is it?"

I slowly stood, turning to my brother. "It's a fingernail."

Sharing a glance, Dean pulled two shovels from the wall, handing one of them to me, and we began to dig. Sometime later, we managed to dig a rather deep pit, revealing a pile of skeletons.

"So much for the innocent churchgoing librarian," I said.

"Yeah, well, whatever spoke to Gloria about this knew what it was talking about, I'll give you that," Dean replied, begrudgingly.

Returning to the motel room, Dean had entered first, falling short within seconds. Running into his back, he turned with a chiding look.

"_Dude_," he hissed out, jerking his chin towards the beds where Abigail's back was to the door, unmoving. The scowl on his softened into an expression that was reserved for moments he allowed his guard to fall. I stood in my place a moment or two, chewing on the inside of my cheek, before I stepped into the room, closing the door behind us. Dean had crossed the room, shrugging out of his jacket while I stayed a bit behind, glancing over to the bed where Abigail was curled around Megan, sound asleep.

There was a dull pain in my chest, one that resided there since Jess's death. Seeing Abigail lay there, peacefully sleeping with Megan beside her made me realize how badly I wanted something similar to this. I wanted so badly to see Jess asleep on my bed with a child of my own curled under her arm.

I took a deep breath, hanging my head slightly in order for me to turn my thoughts elsewhere. The idea of that was long gone. Abigail gained my attention once again when she shifted in the bed, allowing her limbs to stretch out before lifting her head up, eyes half-closed, then jumped a foot in the air.

"Jesus Christ," she muttered, glancing from Dean to me. "When did y'all get back?"

Dean shrugged. "A few minutes ago." He lowered himself onto the bed with a police scanner in his hands, twisting the knob on it until the scratchy sound of static blared across the speaker. The three of us jumped at the suddenness of the noise while he frantically twisted the volume down until it was a low murmur. Abigail let out a yawn, shaking her head at my brother.

"Did y'all find anythin' interestin'?" she asked, turning her attention to me.

Dean glanced to me. "Yeah, actually," I replied, noticing her brow arch as a signal to continue.

"The friendly, neighborhood librarian had some secrets in his foundation," Dean stepped in, earning a surprised look from her.

I sat down at the edge of my bed, sitting across from the both of them. "Dean and I found human remains buried in the floor of Carl Gully's basement."

Abigail let out a low whistle. "You're shittin' me."

"Wish we were, babe, but, you and Sam may be onto somethin'," Dean admitted, half-heartedly.

She nodded slowly, glancing from Dean to me, then back to him. "Then whatever spoke to Gloria knew what it was talkin' about," she stated, echoing Dean's words from earlier. "We need to find out some more information about this…" She waved her hand dismissively, as if she were in thought. "I mean, the remains in Gully's basement; who and all's missin'."

"Right, so, I've got it figured that Abs and I could go check it out—" Dean started, until he met Abigail's arched brow, like a mother getting ready to scold a child. He groaned. "God. Really?"

"You know the drill," she said, glancing down to Megan. "Besides, this proves to be good bondin' time." Dean rolled his eyes, lying ungracefully back with another groan. I pursed my lips at his reaction, _knowing_ that he was going stir crazy. "Sam and I got this."

* * *

**_Abigail's Point of View_**

**_Motel Room—Two Hours Later_**

Walking in the room after Sam and I returned from scouring the area for information, the police scanner greeted me before Dean did. Perched on the edge of the bed with Megan sitting on his lap, staring intently at the device in her dad's hands, Dean acknowledged us with a painfully bored expression, which quickly turned into that of eagerness.

The scanner buzzed to life as a woman's voice broadcasted. "_We've got a minor TA, involving a motorcycle and a, uh van, this is at the corner of 28th and Pine, 28th and Pine."_

"D'you bring quarters?"Dean asked, almost desperate as his gaze fell to the controller of the magic fingers. Sam and I exchanged a look, before frowning to the controller as well.

"Dude! I'm not enabling your sick habit," Sam said rather harshly, tossing a sandwich to Dean, letting it fall short and land next to his thigh. Megan turned her head to the new object and automatically started reaching for it, "You're like one of those lab rats that pushes the pleasure button instead of the food button until it dies."

"And you're gettin' our child addicted to it as well," I added, shrugging off my jacket, setting it on the back of a chair seeing Dean give me a look.

"What are you talking about?" he protested with a scoff. "I eat. Megan enjoys what time we share and is very well taken care of in my presence." I caught Sam roll his eyes. "And I got news."

"Us too," I added.

He nodded. "Alright, you go first." Setting the scanner to his left, he wrapped an arm around Megan securely as he opened the sandwich with one hand.

"Three students have disappeared off the college campus in the last year," Sam began. "All of them were last seen at the library."

Dean's eyes lifted. "Where Carl Gully worked."

My tight lipped expression fell in place with a nod. "Yep." A bubble of anger simmered in my chest, knowing Dean was disgusted before he even got the words '_sick bastard' _out. "So Gloria's angel —"

Dean arched his brow at me. "_Angel_?" he questioned, sending a shot of irritation through me.

I shook my head at him.

"Okay. Whatever this thing is . . ." Sam stepped in, just as irritated as me about Dean's bullheadedness.

"Okay, well, whatever it is, it's struck again," Dean interrupted, causing Sam and I to look at him, shocked.

"What?"

"I was listening to the police radio before you two got here. There was this guy, uh, Zach Smith, some local drunk; he went up to a stranger's front door last night, stabbed him in the heart," Dean relayed.

"And then I'm guessing he went to the police and confessed?" Sam asked, taking a shot in the dark.

"Yep. Roma Downey made him do it," Dean replied with sarcasm thick in his voice as he rose with Megan situated comfortably in his arms. He crossed the room, taking a post-it note off the mirror, showing it to us. "Now, I, uh . . . got the victim's address." Five minutes later, we were in the car making our way to the newest victim's residence. Sitting in the back of the Impala with Megan, I began to feel uncomfortable, almost nauseated as we pulled to a stop a couple of blocks down from the victim's home.

Just like my session with Gloria, this just didn't feel right. The hum began to grow louder until it felt like my head was beginning to split down the middle. I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping the side of the door for dear life.

_A man sat on the computer typing away anxiously with a salacious grin. There had to be numerous other messages from the recipient. All he needed was a time and place. _

"You okay? You look a little green, Abs," Dean prompted.

I glanced to the front of the car, snapping out of _whatever_ it is I was enduring. "I don't know if it's my spidey senses tinglin' or what, but somethin' doesn't feel right about this." Sam turned in the seat, concerned. "I can't put my finger on it. Y'all go ahead." Dean and Sam exchanged a mutual look. "Me and Megan'll hold down the fort."

"You sure?" Dean asked, uncertainty residing in his voice.

I nodded in response. "Yeah. I don't think Megan needs to be around that kind of place." I laughed anxiously. "I mean, the _last_ thing we need is for her to spit up everywhere, right?"

Dean tilted his head. "Yeah, you're right." He turned his attention to Sam with a grin. "You heard the boss, Francis. You and me flying solo."

Sam turned his gaze to the roof of the car. "Fun."

Dean chuckled, clapping his brother on the shoulder. "C'mon, we're burning daylight." Dean then got out of the car, Sam delayed, turning his head back.

"You saw something."

I glanced out to see Dean already walking away. "Yeah."

He shifted in the seat. "What'd you see? Will it help?"

"I'm not sure what to make of it, Sammy." I shrugged, pulling the corner of my bottom lip in. "Just…check the computer. I don't know why, but my money is that there's something there. Let me know."

Determination lit in his eyes upon hearing this, then he nodded. "I will."

I reached forward, taking Sam's hand in mine, squeezing it gently. "You two be safe."

Sam smiled lightly, returning the gesture. "Always."

* * *

**_Sam's Point of View_**

**_Zach Smith's House—Day_**

Leaving Abigail and the baby behind, what she had told me lit something deep within me. Was it determination? Possibly. For Abigail to pinpoint on the computer alone, was something I could take and stretch it beyond its limits. I caught up with Dean shortly, who seemed rather involved in getting out and about since we had limited his exposure to the outside world. Upon approaching the victim's house, the both of us climbed over the fence, into the yard, and snuck through the window.

"Let's see what we can find. I'll check over there, while you check over there," Dean proposed, moving his hand over in a general direction. With a nod, we split up, searching the overall house for anything worth looking into. Considering what Dean and I both saw at Carl Gully's residence, something had to be out of place and well-hidden.

I paused, spotting a computer. Remembering what Abigail said, I sat down and turned on the power. After a few minutes, Dean walked into the same room as I, meandering around the room for some kind of evidence. "Find anything?" I asked, not taking my eyes off the screen.

"Well, Frank liked his catalog shopping, but that's about all I got," he replied, not enthused with his results.

"Not much here," I furrowed my brows, upon seeing a secured file. _Was this what Abigail meant?_ "Except he's got this one locked file on his computer, I can't…" I tightened my jaw, "…hold on." I pressed a few buttons, then grinned in triumph, only to realize that what I had successfully uncovered, was something I didn't want to know. "Not anymore. God."

Dean crossed the room, stopping short behind me. "What?"

I scrolled through the window. "Well, he's got all these emails. Dozens, to this lady named Jennifer." I swallowed down a knot, becoming repulsed. "This lady who's thirteen years old."

Dean shook his head. "Oh, I don't want to hear this."

I scrunched my face in disgust as I opened a few of them. "Looks like they met in a chat room," I continued. "These emails are pretty personal, Dean." I clicked on another one. "Look at that. Setting up a time and place to meet."

"_Great_," Dean muttered sarcastically.

"They were supposed to meet today," I finished, realizing that this 'angel' or whatever the hell this was, potentially saved this girl's life. Which also meant that Abigail was right about finding computer; she had a premonition, and it was right.

"Well, I guess if you're gonna stab someone, good timing," Dean shrugged. "I don't know, man, this is weird. I mean, sure, some spirits are out for vengeance, but this one's almost like a do-gooder, you know? Like, like a –"

"Avenging angel?" I offered, seeing Dean roll his eyes and turn away. "Well, how else do you explain it, Dean? Three guys, not connected to each other, all stabbed through the heart? At least two were world-class pervs, and I bet if you dug deep enough on the other guy —"

"Hey," Dean interrupted, picking up an object.

I turned. "What?"

"You said Carl Gully was a churchgoer, right?" he prompted.

"Yeah?"

Dean looked up from whatever he had. "What was the name of his church?"

"Uh ... Our Lady of the Angels?"

"Of course that'd be the name." The piece of paper he held up, revealed it to be a church flier. "Looks like Frank went to the same church."

* * *

**_Abigail's Point of View_**

**_Our Lady of the Angels Church—Day_**

Our Lady of the Angels Church was a large stone building in the middle of the city. It was basically swallowed up in the concrete jungle, a few pieces of sparse vegetation grew here and there in forms of small shrubs and trees, but everywhere else was gray and depressing. The building itself sat on the edge of a busy intersection, cars and trucks flying by, which broke the seam of peace in a holy place. Approaching the building with Megan securely held in my arms, I felt a hand reach out and stop me. I turned, seeing Dean glance to the church, appearing to be rather uncomfortable.

"What is it?" I asked, looking to the building as well. Sam tilted his head, not understanding the hold.

"This is gonna look kinda bad, the two of us and a baby," he replied. "You got a ring that you could put on?" Dean had a point about the two of us walking into a church with a baby born out of wedlock. With knitted brows, I held out my left hand, revealing my ring finger to be vacant. The other rings that I wore on both hands weren't that of engagement, let alone, wedding band status.

"I got nothin'." Dean's mouth drew into a straight line as he started digging around in his pockets. Sure, we normally had a pair of fake rings that we used for the role of a married couple, but on a day like this? Our luck, we didn't have them.

"Guys, I don't think they're gonna care," Sam pressed. "It's not like they're gonna make it a point to ask if you two are married."

Dean shot his brother a withering look, "As sure as I'm standing here, the moment Abigail and I walk through that door, we'll get stoned to death for not being married. Might as well look the part." Sam arched his brow, eyes flickering over to me with a rather smug expression on his face. Dean getting flustered over this kind of thing was rather amusing. However, he had another valid point. Any kind of party in correlation to the church was well equipped with a judgmental look that could banish one's soul to hell in a blink of an eye.

Sam scoffed. "This isn't the sixteen hundreds. Nobody's getting stoned or castrated." Dean lifted his hands up, then slapped them against his legs in a huff. Sam was doing this out of pure rottenness, and boy, was he enjoying the sight of Dean squirming.

"Forget it," he grumbled, taking the ring he wore on his hand and slid it onto mine. "This ain't no proposal either."

_At least, not yet_. Those words drifted through my head, and I offered Dean an understanding smile. I knew what his intentions were. Little did one know about this bundle of rage and power, was a sweet man who was a total perfectionist, and if something didn't go as planned, he got incredibly flustered. And it showed. Dean threw Sam another withering glare before we all walked into the church.

We found ourselves walking through the sanctuary of the church, speaking to a friendly-looking priest, Father Reynolds.

"So you're interested in joining the parish?" he asked us.

"Yeah, well, you know, we just don't feel right unless we hit church every Sunday," Dean explained.

"Where'd you say you lived before?" The priest asked.

Sam and Dean glanced to each other, "Uh ..."

"Fremont, Texas. We used to attend St. Teresa's parish," I stepped in, catching small glimpses of the priest's thoughts. Sam and Dean, stunned or shocked one, stood in silence until I nudged the nearest man.

Sam nodded, "Yeah."

"Really? That's splendid. You must know the priest there."

"Sure," Dean piped in before I could speak. "Yeah, no it's uh, Father O'Malley."

Father Reynolds squinted, unsure of the name, "Hmm, I know a Father Shaughnessy." I shot Dean a dark look.

"Shaughnessy, exactly," he replied quickly. "What'd I say?"

"You know, we're just happy to be here now, Father." Sam then stepped in, in an attempt to make up for Dean's slip up.

"And we're happy to have you, we could use some young blood around here." Father Reynolds continued with a smile, looking down at Megan. She appeared to be amazed by the different lights and sights of this church, offering the Father a light-hearted smile.

I smiled down at her, brushing back some of her hair and kissed her forehead gently. Dean watched, smiling to himself before getting back to the task at hand. "Hey, listen, I gotta ask — no offense, but uh, the neighborhood?"

"Well, it's gone to seed a little, there's no denying that," Father Reynolds replied sadly, "but that's why what the church does here is so important. Like I always say, you can expect a miracle, but in the meantime you work your butt off."

"Yeah, we heard about the murders," Dean prompted, seeking out more of a conversation from the priest.

"Yes. The victims were parishioners of mine; I'd known them for years," he explained. Now we've hit paydirt.

"And the killers said that an angel made them do that?" Sam asked.

Father Reynolds looked disgusted, shaking his head, "Yes. Misguided souls, to think that God's messenger would appear and incite people to murder. It's tragic."

"So you don't believe in those angel yarns, huh?" Dean asked, looking over to Sam and me with a little too smug of an expression. If it weren't for the fact we were in a church, I could've smacked that look off his face. Judging from Sam's resting bitchface, he could've done the same, too.

"Oh, no, I absolutely believe. Kind of goes with the job description," Father Reynolds replied, pointing to his collar. I returned the favor to Dean with pursed lips. His oh-so-smug expression had been replaced with a sour look.

Sam inclined his head to a painting on the wall. "Father, that's Michael, right?" Dean and I turned our heads, looking to the painting.

He nodded. "That's right. The archangel Michael, with the flaming sword. The fighter of demons. Holy force against evil."

"So they're not really the Hallmark card version that everybody thinks?" I asked. "They're fierce, right? Vigilant?"

"Well, I like to think of them as more loving than wrathful," the priest suggested. "But, uh, yes, a lot of Scripture paints angels as God's warriors."

I smiled. "An angel of the Lord appeared to them, the glory of the Lord shone down upon them, and they were terrified." Dean looked confused, while Sam and Father Reynolds nodded, although, Father Reynolds was more pleased than anything else. "Luke. Two nine."

Dean nodded sagely, then rolled his eyes when the priest wasn't looking. _Ass._

Another character caught my attention. "So, Father, I have another question...who's that?"

Father Reynold smiled. "That's Zadkiel. Michael's second in command. He is the angel of benevolence, freedom, mercy, and the Patron Angel of all who forgive." I stared at the character of Zadkiel a moment longer than anticipated, "It is also said that Zadkiel is the unnamed Angel of the Lord who holds back Abraham from killing his son, Isaac."

My gaze flickered from Sam and Dean's curious gazes, to the priest, and then smiled. "I've always been curious about Zadkiel since a family friend gave me a pendant with the sigil of Zadkiel on it…" Dean tilted his head, curious about this family friend. The four of us made another round in the sanctuary before Father Reynolds saw us out the front door.

"Well, thank you for speaking with us, Father." Sam turned to him with a smile.

"Oh, it' s my pleasure. Hope to see you again," he replied genuinely. Standing before this man, I felt like total shit to think that this man only wanted to see one thing; love and peace in a world like today. What he didn't know, and wasn't going to know was the true horrors this world also offered.

Dean noticed a collection of tribute items at the bottom of the steps, nodding towards them. "Hey, Father, what's, what is all that for?" Sam and I followed his gaze seeing a collection of lit candles, bouquets of flowers, and a cross.

"Oh, that's for Father Gregory. He was a priest here," Father Reynolds replied, looking at the collection of things as well.

"Was?" I asked.

"He passed away right on these steps. He's interred in the church crypt," the priest explained.

Megan began to get fussy, allowing me to cradle her head against my chest and moved in a soothing way. "When did this happen?"

"Two months ago." I shook my head at his response. "He was shot for his car keys."

"I'm sorry," Sam said, staring at the candles.

"Yeah, me too. He was a good friend," Father Reynolds replied softly. "I didn't even have time to administer his last rites. But like I said, it's a tough neighborhood. Ever since he died I've been praying my heart out."

"For what?" Sam asked.

"For deliverance. From the violence and the bloodshed around here. We could use a little divine intervention, I s'pose." Dean and I exchanged a look, although his was more of a biased look.

"Well, Padre, thanks. We'll see you again," Dean said as Father Reynolds nodded to us, then went back inside. Dean loitered near the altar until he was gone and then started to look through the candles. There was a photograph of Father Gregory amongst them. Dean picked it up, showing it to Sam and I.

"Well, it's all starting to make sense," Dean said. "Devoted priest dies a violent death? That's vengeful spirit material right there." Sam and I shifted uncomfortably. "And he knew all the other stiffs, because they went to church here. In fact I'm willing to bet that because he was their priest, he knew things about them that nobody else knew."

"Then again, Father Reynolds started praying for God's help about two months ago, right?" I pointed out. "Right about the time all this started happening?"

Dean groaned, "Aw, come on, guys, what's your deal?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, confused.

"Look, I'll admit I'm a bit of a skeptic," Dean began. I snorted, casting an upward glance. _A bit? Okay._ "But since when are you two all Mr. and Mrs., uh, 700 Club?" Sam stood beside me, chewing on his bottom lip with a darkened expression from underneath his long bangs. "No, seriously. From the get-go the both of you've been willing to buy this angel crap. I mean, what's next, are you going to start praying every day?"

"I do," Sam admitted quietly, receiving a look of shock from Dean.

"What?"

"I do pray every day," he repeated, "I have for a long time." I cast my gaze down to Megan, who was just looking around. Of course, I knew about Sam's silent prayers. He didn't have to tell me about them, but I always sensed when he was. They were oftentimes urgent and desperate, like he's about to breakdown any moment. Those times, I usually tried to step in and talk to him…other times, he was asking for guidance, where he should go, what should he do…when to shut Dean up.

"The things you learn about a guy. Huh," Dean muttered.

I tilted my head with a confused expression. "Dean, I see things you and Sam don't normally see. Why do you gotta be so…biased and skeptical of anythin' is _beyond_ me." Megan let out a small coo, popping her fist into her mouth. I fell silent, brushing back her blonde hair, "You want to diss Sam and mine's beliefs willy-nilly? That's fine. Just keep it to yourself, cause quite frankly, I'm tired of hearin' it."

Dean furrowed his brows at my harsh comment, offering a quick glance to Sam whose expression was fixated in a glare. Defeated, he shook his head, knowing he had crossed a line.

"Well, come on, let's go check out Father Gregory's grave," he took my hand in his, almost hesitantly, as he pulled me and Megan away from Sam and up the stairs. I followed without any kind of argument, still fuming from Dean's biased opinions and lack of any form of open-mindedness. I could sense Dean's agitation, as well as his frustration from overstepping. Sam was beyond agitated at his brother, he was fuming.

None of us spoke, aside from the occasional coos and squeals from Megan, as we walked through the crypt. It was like a maze of nothing but stone hallways, with numerous stone angel figurines. Dean gave me a hesitant look as we walked ahead of Sam, entering another room. I let my hand fall from his, allowing him to walk ahead of me. I stopped a few steps inside the crypt, then turned my back to him, catching sight of Sam stop and look at angel figurines.

"Who would've thought," Dean muttered under his breath. "Sam praying…"

I looked over my shoulder at him and blinked, catching the last part of his sentence. "And you haven't?" Dean jerked his head in my direction with raised brows.

"Uh," he cleared his voice. "No. Nope." Dean shook his head, shoving his hands in his pockets as he crossed the room nonchalantly to look at the crypt better.

I raised a brow, running my fingers through Megan's hair. "Not once have you prayed?" I questioned, following behind him. Dean pursed his lips in a sour expression. Again, he shook his head, avoiding my gaze. "Liar."

He paused. "You with the freak—" he stopped short, then cleared his throat again, motioning his hand in a circle, searching for another word other than 'freaky', "the, uh, uh, _powers_…"

"What is your problem with prayin', Dean?" I asked.

"I don't have a problem with _praying_, Abs…" he started. "It's just—" His lips drew in a thin line, then shook his head trying to avoid an 'unnecessary' conversation. "Never mind."

I rolled my eyes, letting out a scoff. "Here we go."

With pinched brows, Dean tilted his head with a pissy expression gracing his features. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I shook my head a little. "You wantin' to avoid this conversation, Dean. That's what it's supposed to mean," I answered, heatedly. Dean's eyes shot up to the crypt's ceiling. "It's not that crazy, Dean. You should do it every now and then…prayin', that is."

"I know what you meant," he shot back, "and for the record…I have, you know, prayed." I raised my brows in response. "It's not my cup of tea."

"Not…not your cup of tea," I repeated in a flat tone. He shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant manner. "Whatever floats your boat, Winchester." I peered down at Megan who had looked up at me with those big eyes of hers, innocent and sweet. I let out a frustrated sigh. "You lack faith."

"_I_ lack faith?" Dean echoed in disbelief. "Faith…" he snorted after testing the word. "_Faith_ hasn't gotten me anywhere." I bristled at his words. It was like a punch to the gut.

"It's gotten us this far…hasn't it?" I asked. "If _you_ think faith hasn't gotten _you_ anywhere…then it's obvious you haven't taken a good look at what you have—."

"You want to go there, Abs?" he pressed. "Fine. _Faith_ got dad killed, _faith_ got you landed into the hospital several times, and _faith_ about got our kid killed! _That_ is what _faith_ has done for me." I remained silent. "And as many times as I have prayed for things to go different, it's not happened yet." Dean threw his hands up in the air with a heated exhale. "Look, I'm not arguing with you about _faith_ and _praying_. Hell, I'm not even going to argue with you about the Great Pumpkin when we're in the middle of a _job, _okay, Charlie Brown? Drop it."

"I don't understand, Dean. Why? What is your deal?" When he didn't reply, I clenched my jaw, more than ready to either punch Dean in the mouth, or just leave and let the two boys do their own thing. It wasn't long after Dean's voice had risen, Megan puckered her bottom lip out in a pitiful manner and began to whimper. I shook my head in a disbelieving manner before the hair rose on the back of my neck.

_Behind you,_ whispered a familiar voice.

Catching a flash of light from the corner of my eye, I turned, furrowing my brows as Megan's cries grew louder.

"What?" Dean asked, sensing my concern.

I went out of the room holding my screaming child against me. "Sam?" I didn't hear a response, "_Sam?_ What's goin' on? What's takin' you?"

Dean was close behind me. "Sammy?" I stopped in my tracks upon seeing Sam passed out on the floor. "Sammy!" His voice was gruff, yet filled with worry as he rushed over to his brother's side. "Hey!"

Sam jerked awake shortly after Dean started to shake him, letting out a soft groan.

Dean looked him over. "You okay?"

Sam gazed at a nearby stone angel. "Yeah," he replied, stunned. "Yeah. I'm okay."

Dean nodded, clapping him on his shoulder. "Come on." He hauled Sam to his feet, guiding him into the sanctuary, with a hand on his arm, as I shut the door behind us. Inside the sanctuary, we walked to the front. I watched Sam closely, mentally noting the similarities between Gloria and him. Elated. Tranquility.

"You saw it, didn't you?" I asked, breaking the silence as I walked alongside Sam and Dean. Sam didn't speak for a moment, appearing to still be in a daze from his experience.

"Didn't you?" Dean echoed, staring firmly at Sam, whose lips tipped up in a small, elated smile.

"Yeah," he began. "Guys, I saw an angel."

_No angel_, a voice whispered beside me. I looked over my shoulder, searching for the source of it.

Dean blinked, unable to process what was just said. "You..." He shook his head in a disbelieving manner. Rather than finishing his sentence, he pulled out a flask, unscrewed it and handed it to him. "Alright. Here." I gaped at Dean for opening his flask in a church.

"Dean," I chided. "Really?" Dean stared at me innocently, hefting his shoulders in a small shrug with his hand still outstretched to his brother.

"I don't want a drink," Sam told him in an incredulous tone.

Dean shrugged, taking a swig of whatever liquor he had inside it. "So. What makes you think you saw an, uh, angel?"

Sam's shoulders hefted in a slow, lazy shrug. "It just, it appeared before me and I just… this feeling washed over me, you know?" He looked over to me with a growing smile. "Like… like peace. Like grace." I frowned in concern at Sam's shoddy excuse of an explanation. Megan squirmed against me in her carrier, babbling away.

Dean shook his head. "Okay, Ecstasy Boy, maybe we'll get you some glowsticks and a nice Dr. Seuss hat, huh?" I pursed my lips at him in distaste. Of course, being bullheaded, he brushed it off like it was nothing.

"Guys, I'm serious. It spoke to me, it knew who I was," Sam protested, struggling for Dean to understand his experience.

Except, Dean wasn't having it. He remained steadfast, ever skeptical. "It's just a spirit, Sam. Okay? And it's not the first one to be able to read people's minds." His gaze fell on me, searching for some kind of logical response from me. When I didn't speak in his favor, Dean pursed his lips, his agitation growing each second. I sat at a piano while Dean and Sam sat nearby in a pew. Megan had long since calmed down, her attention was now on the black and white keys of the piano, banging and plinking on them with her hands splayed out with some kind of innocent determination.

"Okay, let me guess. You were personally chosen to smite some sinner." he said, taking a shot in the dark. "You've just got to wait for some divine bat signal, is that it?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, actually."

"Great," Dean muttered.

I drew my attention to both boys, twisting around with Megan on my lap. "Sammy, I'm just askin' for the sake of Dean's sanity…" _And mine_, "I don't suppose you asked what this alleged bad guy did?"

"Actually I did, Abby," Sam replied, turning his gaze from Dean to me. "And the angel told me. He hasn't done anything. Yet." I furrowed my brows at that. "But he will."

Dean shook his head, overly done about this entire situation and stood up from his seat. "Oh, this is…this is . . . I don't believe this." As bad as I wanted to fully believe Sam, I just couldn't.

"Dean, the angel hasn't been wrong yet!" Sam argued. "Someone's going to do something awful, and I can stop it!"

_No angel_, the same voice whispered again.

"By…by killin' him?" I asked, incredulous at his words. Was this Sam, my moose-sized little brother, talking here? I shook my head. "Sam, this ain't you talkin', maybe Dean _is _right and this is just some…vengeful spirit." Sam gave me a distraught look, while Dean blinked in surprise. "I want to believe that this is an angel, Sam. God, I do, but an angel _won't_ tell you to just, _kill_ someone—even if they haven't done anythin' yet."

"You know, you're supposed to be bad too, maybe, maybe I should just stop you right now."

I was taken aback by Dean's outburst. "Dean."

"You know what, Dean? I don't understand! Why can't you even consider the possibility?" Sam's voice rising as he continued to speak.

"What, that this is an angel?" Dean snapped. From what I could tell, he couldn't even believe he was saying it.

"Yes! Maybe we're hunting an angel here, and we should stop!" he pressed, voice softening. "Maybe this is God's will!" Sam turned to me, clearly exasperated, eyes pleading. "Abigail, you of all people would know!"

"Okay, alright. You know what? I get it. You've got faith," Dean stepped in, coming over to the piano and leaning against it. "That's — hey, good for you. I'm sure it makes things easier. I'll tell you who else had faith like that — Mom." Sam's eyes lifted from the ground to him, stunned. "She used to tell me when she tucked me in that angels were watching over us. In fact, that was the last thing she ever said to me."

"You never told me that," Sam murmured softly.

Dean shrugged. "Well, what's to tell? She was wrong. There was nothing protecting her. There's no higher power, there's no God," he said to him. "I mean, there's just chaos, and violence, and random unpredictable evil that—that comes out of nowhere, and rips you to shreds. Why should I have _faith_ in anything when it's brought me nothing but misery?" His jaw clenched, glancing to me, then to Sam. "You two want me to believe in this stuff? I'm going to need to see some hard proof. Either of you got any?"

Sam and I lowered our gazes; his to the floor, mine to Megan. "Well, I do. Proof that we're dealing with a spirit."

* * *

**_Crypt—Evening_**

Down inside the crypts, we stood before Father Gregory's tombstone. It was a brilliant white marble, covering in creeping vines. Sam and Dean crouched before it; inspecting the vines closely.

Sam fingered around with it. "That looks like—"

"It's wormwood," I explained. "Plant associated with the dead; specifically the ones that are not at rest."

Sam looked over at me with a frown. "I don't see it growing anywhere else, except over the murdered priest's marker. It's him, Sam," Dean added.

"Maybe," Sam replied stubbornly.

"_Maybe_?" Dean asked, raising a brow. He turned to me with his hands out, exasperated. I pressed my lips together in a thin line, holding Megan closely. Since we had been down here, she'd been fussy; uncomfortable no doubt.

Sam looked to the both of us. "Guys, I don't know what to think."

Dean turned back to him. "Okay. You want some more proof? I'll give you more proof."

"How?" he asked.

"We'll summon Gregory's spirit," Dean replied with a matter of fact tone.

I stared at him for a beat. Silent. "Here? In the _church?_"

The oldest of us turned back to me with a firm nod. "Yeah. Yeah, we just need a few odds and ends, and that, uh, séance ritual in Dad's journal."

"Oh, a séance, _great_," Sam muttered.

"Hope Whoopi's available," I added, catching Dean's unimpressed gaze.

"That's funny, actually," he deadpanned. "Seriously. If Father Gregory's spirit is around, a séance will bring him right to us. If it's him, then we'll put him to rest."

"But if it's an angel, it won't show," Sam affirmed.

"Nothin' will happen," I assured, half-ready to prove Dean wrong.

He nodded. "Exactly. That's one of the perks of the job, guys: we don't have to operate on faith." I rolled my eyes at him. "We can know for sure." He stared at us for a beat. "Don't you two wanna know for sure?"

**_Grocery Store—Evening_**

"Silly, give me that," I said, taking away the _Spongebob Squarepants_ placemat from Megan. She let out a shrill squeal in protest, huffing and puffing around before she began to flail her arms like battering rams. "Ow, ow, ow!"

Sam winced. "Dude. I'll admit we've gone pretty ghetto with spellwork before, but this takes the cake. I mean, a Spongebob placemat instead of an altar cloth?"

"We'll just put it Spongebob side down," Dean shrugged. "_If _Megan doesn't tear it up first."

"Or gives me a concussion," I added. "_Ow_!" Megan gripped a good size amount of hair and jerked with all her might. "You brat!" Sam started laughing, along with Dean—who seemed overly smug about what his daughter was doing to me. "Just like your daddy." Sam's laughter subsided suddenly, stopping in shock. I stopped as well, pulling my hair from my daughter's hands with a wince before noticing Sam staring at something across the street. Not exactly something, but _someone_; a younger man, holding a bunch of flowers.

"Sammy?" I asked, glancing over to him warily.

"Guys, that's it," Sam breathed out.

"What?" Dean asked, turning and looking around.

"That's the sign!" he said, urgency lacing his voice.

"Where?"

Sam pointed to the man. "Right there, right behind that guy!" he glanced to us. "That's him, guys. We have to stop him." The man started to cross the street, causing Sam to go after him. He might've gotten five or six steps in before Dean and I stopped him.

"Wait a minute," I said to him.

"What are you doing?" he snarled out. "Let me go."

"You're not going to go kill somebody because a ghost told you to, are you insane?" Dean snapped.

"Dean, I'm not insane, I'm not going to kill him," he tried to wriggle away from us. "I'm going to stop him."

"Define _stop_, huh? I mean, what are you goin' to do?" I pressed, glancing to the guy crossing the street.

"Abigail, please, he's going to hurt someone, you know it," he pleaded. I tore my gaze from the guy, feeling an unsettling sensation from this entire situation. Megan was obviously sensing it due to her whining, then saw a look in Dean's eyes.

"Alright, come on," he said, nodding. The man had gotten into a car and started it up, soon pulling away. Dean got in the driver side of his car and started it. I didn't attempt to open the rear passenger side door, knowing what he was going to do. Sam, however, didn't. He tried to get in the other side, looking at his brother, confused.

"Dean. Unlock my door," Sam said.

Dean shook his head, peering out from the car. "You're not killing anyone, Sam. I got this guy, you and Abs go do the séance."

Sam stared at him, panicked. "Dean!" Dean pulled away from the curb, following behind the man's car a fair distance away. I gently reached for Sam's arm, causing him to turn to me with wide eyes. He was so distraught.

"C'mon," I told him gently. "Personally, I want to wipe that smug grin off his face just as bad as you."

"I thought—"

"I don't know what to think, Sam," I admitted as we started back to the church, "In the last few days, I've seen some things, and I've heard some things—a lot of it, I don't know how to perceive."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

I shrugged, wrapping my jacket around Megan snugly. "I keep hearin' these voices…"

"Voices?" Sam echoed, furrowing his brows at me.

I nodded. "They come and go," I began. "Back when I spoke to Gloria, it was like…a roar; like a large crowd was tryin' to talk at the same time."

"What was being said? Do you know?" he pressed.

I shook my head slowly. "Religious words like, 'blasphemy'…y'know, stuff like that. Even when you brought it up, I kept hearin', 'no angel'."

Sam's expression sagged. "Abigail, I swear that this has got to be one. It just _has_ to!"

I stroked Megan's head. "I know, Sammy." As we approached the church, we paused. Sam peered down to Megan, allowing her to take hold of his fingers. "Let's hope we prove Dean wrong…" He glanced up at me as I spoke. "If not, we'll hear it for a month." The corner of his mouth tipped up into a half-smile.

He nodded, "Okay."

* * *

**_Crypt—Evening_**

Kneeling before Gregory's grave, we had the spell materials spread out; a circle of small white candles, a large black candle in the middle, the _Spongebob_ placemat (faced down with Megan screaming with every breath wanting it), and John's journal. Lighting the candles, one by one, I picked up the journal, giving Sam a hopeful look.

"Amate spiritus obscure te quaerimus, te oramus nobiscum colloquere aput nos circita," I recited as Sam sprinkled some herb on the black candle and it flared brightly. Sensing someone entering the crypt, I snapped the journal shut, twisting around as Father Reynolds faltered.

"What are you doing? What is this?" he demanded, looking to Sam and I's faces.

"Uh, Father, please," Sam stammered. "I can explain. Um . . . actually, maybe I can't," he said weakly, glancing to me.

"Um. This is a, a séance," I said slowly, seeing the scrutinizing glare.

"A _séance_? Young lady, you are in the House of God, and for you to bring an innocent child to a thing such as this…this…this is disgraceful!" I grimaced.

"It's based on early Christian rites, if that helps any," Sam added.

"Enough. The two of you are coming with me."

"Father, please, you, just wait a second!" Sam pleaded as Father Reynolds pulled us both to the exit, until a bright glow built up from behind. Turning, Father Reynolds stared in awe, Sam and I stared on in disappointment.

"Oh my god! Is that ... is that an angel?" Father Reynolds breathed out.

"No, it's not. It's just Father Gregory." Sam replied solemnly. The glow dimmed down and coalseces to reveal a young, and rather handsome priest, presumably Father Gregory.

"Thomas?!" Father Reynolds gasped out.

"I've come in answer to your prayers." The former priest smiled warmly at his old friend. Sam approached the spirit cautiously.

"Sam," I hissed out, glancing to him with concern.

Father Gregory looked to Sam. "Sam. I thought I sent you on your path. You should hurry."

He shook his head. "Father, I'm sorry. But you're not an angel."

"Of course I am," Gregory said, smiling.

"No," I stepped in, seeing Gregory and Sam turn my way. "You're a man. You're a spirit. And you need to rest."

"I was a man. But now I'm an angel," he replied. "I was on the steps of the church. And I felt that bullet pierce right through me. But there was no pain. And suddenly I could see…everything. Father Reynolds, I saw you, praying and crying here. I came to help you."

"Help me how?" Father Reynolds asked, his eyes glittering with tears. "Those murders — that was because of you?"

"I received the Word of God. He spoke to me, told me to smite the wicked. I'm carrying out his will." Gregory explained with such certainty in his voice.

"You're driving innocent people to kill," Father Reynolds implored.

"Those innocent people are being offered redemption. Some people need redemption. Don't they, Sam?" I watched Sam, and he looked uncomfortable with the statement. "As do you, Abigail."

"How can you call this redemption?" Father Reynolds asked.

"You can't understand it now. But the rules of man and the rules of God are two very different things."

"Those people," Sam said softly. "They're locked up."

Gregory shook his head with a small smile. "No, they're happy. They've found peace, beaten their demons. And I've given them the keys to Heaven."

"No. No, this is vengeance, it's wrong," the priest said. "Thomas, this goes against everything you believed. You're lost, misguided."

"Father. No, I'm not misguided," Gregory argued, shaking his head slightly.

"You are not an angel, Thomas. Men cannot be angels," Reynolds replied firmly.

Father Gregory's eyes fell on me. "How can you say that when one walks amongst us?" He asked, looking to Sam and Father Reynolds in turn. "I don't understand. You prayed for me to come."

"I prayed for God's help. Not this. What you're doing is not God's will. 'Thou shalt not kill'. That's the word of God," the priest told his former pupil. Quietly, I drew the gaze of the spirit once more. He looked do confused, so…bewildered. There was something we were all missing, but I wasn't going to take the time to ask. I looked from the spirit, to his headstone where he turned and stared at it.

"Let us help you," Sam finally said.

Father Gregory shook his head. "No."

"It's time to rest, Thomas, to be at peace," Father Reynolds pressed. "Please, let me give you Last Rites." Gregory looked from his old friend, to Sam, and finally to me where he gazed down to Megan. After a moment, he finally nodded in resignation; Father Reynolds lifting his hands in prayer. "Oh Holy Hosts above, I call upon thee as a servant of Christ to sanctify our actions this day, in fulfillment of the will of God," Gregory's image flickered, causing Father Reynolds to gasp.

"Father Reynolds?" Gregory asked, becoming scared.

"Rest," Reynolds commanded him. Gregory kneeled as Father Reynolds held a hand over Gregory's forehead. "I call upon the Archangel Raphael, Master of the Air, to make open the way. Let the fire of the Holy Spirit now descend, that this being might be awakened to the world beyond." For a moment, Father Gregory glowed brightly. Within the glow, I wasn't sure what I was seeing, but from what I could see, a figure of a man appeared; head tilted to the side. Curious, yet intent on his surroundings.

In that moment, Gregory vanished, and so did the man, leaving Father Reynolds in awe. Sam and I were heartbroken.

* * *

**_Hotel Room—Day_**

Back at the hotel room, Megan was in mini-coma while Sam and I were packing our things. I stopped briefly, sensing Dean approaching the room, and I shook my head. "Here we go," I muttered, catching Sam clench his jaw.

Upon opening the door to the motel room, Dean entered, glancing to the both of us. "How was your day?"

Sam straightened up, facing his brother with a solemn, demoralized expression. "You were right," he told him.

I chewed on my bottom lip. "It wasn't an angel. It was Gregory," I said. Dean pulled his flask out from his inner pocket, took a drink and handed it to Sam. Sam took it, appearing to be so broken over this.

"I don't know, Dean, I just, uh . . ." Sam lowered himself on the bed. "I wanted to believe ... so badly, ah ..." Taking a swig of the liquor, he shook his head. "It's so damn hard to do this… what we do…I mean, you have Abigail and Megan…and I'm alone, you know?" I caught Dean's hurt expression residing in his eyes. "And ... there's so much evil out there in the world, Dean, I feel like I could drown in it. And when I think about my destiny, _our _destiny, when I think about how we could end up..."

Dean lowered himself on the bed beside Sam. "Yeah, well, don't worry about that. Alright? I'm watching out for you—the three of you."

Sam nodded sullenly. "Yeah, I know you are. But you're just one person, Dean. And I needed to think that there was something else, watching too, you know?"

I sat on the other side of Sam, wrapping an arm around his waist and leaned my head against his shoulder, "Maybe there still is, y'know? Just because we didn't find it here, doesn't mean we can't find it anywhere else…it'll take time."

Sam looked over at me with tears in his eyes. "Maybe…"

"Maybe what?" Dean asked.

"Maybe I could be saved," Sam laughed nervously. "But, uh, you know, that just clouded my judgment, and you're right. I mean, we've gotta go with what we know, with what we can see, with what's right there in front of our own two eyes."

"Sam, you can't say that," I said. "I won't let you, a'ight? You can't lose your faith. Just because you can't see somethin', don't mean it's not there. I see more than what you guys do. I've seen some things that I can't quite explain."

"Yeah, well, it's funny you say that," Dean said.

"Why?"

"Gregory's spirit gave you some pretty good information," Dean said to Sam. "That guy in the car was bad news. I barely got there in time."

"What happened?" I asked.

Dean looked down at his hands. "He's dead."

"Did . . . you?" Sam asked hesitantly.

"No. But I'll tell you one thing. If . . . The way he died, if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes I never would have believed it. I mean ... I don't know what to call it." Dean looked confused, unsure of his experience.

"What? Dean, what did you see?" I asked.

Dean shrugged, looking hesitant about what he was going to say. "Maybe . . . God's will."

* * *

**A/N: Hey everyone! I'm so glad to say that the latest chapter is finally out! I can't tell y'all how much I appreciate every single one of you! I'm so sorry that it has taken me this long to get it out, but long story short, it's out! :D**

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**I'd like to give credit to everyone in the _Supernatural_ franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise.**

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me or you can get a hold of me via Tumblr! I love receiving fan-mail for all three!**

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**Song for this Chapter: _I'm Not An Angel_ by Halestorm**

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**I want to thank _Ladysunshine6 _helping me out, and _SkyQueen1111_ for beta-reading. You two are the best!**

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**Ladysunshine6- Thank you love! I appreciate your support! **

**angelicedg- You're welcome, dearie! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as you did the last! I'm just so sorry over it taking me so long!**

**grapejuice101- I hope you liked this chapter! I apologize that it has taken me so long!**

** .2016- Thank you so much! I appreciate it! I hope you liked this chapter! :D**

**SPARKLES77- Thank you! I hope you liked this chapter! :D**

**Guest-Thank you so much for your review! I really appreciate it! I posted a few posts about it a few months back on Tumblr! I hope you had a chance to see it! Your review really made me smile when I first read it, and re-reading it again has filled my heart with so much joy! I'm so glad you love Abigail, and the stories that I write! After writing this for so long, I can't help but think the same thing when I watch the show! I keep expecting her to come out and smack the boys upside the head when they're being all melodramatic! ;D**

**ebonywarrior85-Thanks, dearie! I hope you liked the chapter! 3**

**Guest- Thank you! I hope you liked this chapter! I deeply apologize for taking so long!**

**Guest- Thank you for letting me know! I fixed it the other day! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Much love! (:**


	19. Born Under A Bad Sign

**WARNING: There will be smut in this chapter. If smut isn't your thing, then please feel free to skip it! It is located at the end of the chapter. Enjoy! (:**

* * *

_As he begins to raise his voice_

_You lower yours and grant him one last choice_

_Drive until you lose the road_

_Or break with the ones you've followed_

_He will do one of two things_

_He will admit to everything_

_Or he'll say he's just not the same_

_And you'll begin to wonder why you came_

_Where did I go wrong?_

_I lost a friend_

_Somewhere along in the bitterness_

_And I would have stayed up with you all night_

_Had I known how to save a life_

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Duluth, Minnesota**_

I sat in an empty bar with Megan asleep in her bassinet, while I was sipping the last of my beer. _The King Is Gone (And So Are You)_ by George Jones was playing across the jukebox while my mind raced at a million miles an hour, silently reliving a painful memory. Alerting on the sound of a door opening, I glanced over catching sight of the wiry blonde that I had come to admire as Jo Harvelle enter the room. Carrying a beer in each hand, she approached the table I was occupying. "Jo, I just wanted to say thanks again."

Jo smiled, peering down at Megan as she rounded behind me. "Again, no problem." Handing me a beer, she sat down across from me, "_Mi casa es su casa,_ I mean, you did save my ass back in Philadelphia—it's only right." Remembering the last time I had spoken to Jo, it didn't end on good terms after finding out that her father had died because of mine and Dean's fathers. However, remembering what good moments there was from that job, I offered her a soft smile. "Anyways, where is that chucklehead of a boyfriend of yours?" she asked. "I figured he'd be here."

_Mind tellin' me what the hell this was doin' in your bag, Abs?_ Dean's voice rang out. My heart clenched from the memory. In turn, I formed my lips in a half-smile. "Ah, well, you know how that kind of thing goes," I spoke in light tone, running my finger along the rim of my bottle. Looking up from it, Jo's features read of shock.

"No," she said in a hushed tone. "Abigail…"

I shook my head. "It's nothin', Jo, really." I licked my lips, feeling the growing void swallow more of my being. "It's my fault, I should've been up front with him on things."

"No," she shook her head firmly. "Nothing's _ever_ your fault. Men are stupid."

I observed her for a moment seeing the sincerity in her voice. "It really is my fault, Jo," I murmured. "I had a problem and…it bit me in the ass."

"You're getting help, right?" Jo asked, concerned.

I nodded. "Of course. One day at a time, twelve step program."

"I mean, since you and him are…taking a _break_ from each other," Jo elaborated with her hand, "is he going to stay in Megan's life?"

"Yeah, of course he is," I replied softly, glancing down at my sleeping daughter. For the moment, I was so relieved over her getting rest. For the last week and a half, she hadn't gotten any sleep; staying up all hours crying and screaming. I had been place to place; never staying more than a night or two, I knew Megan had to be worn out from it. I pulled my lip between my teeth, chewing on the skin as I observed her longer. The reality is, I hadn't spoken to Dean in almost a week.

Inhaling, I broke away from those thoughts. "Dean's absolutely crazy over Megan," I continued. "She couldn't ask for a better father."

Jo nodded her head in approval. "Good. If not, I'll kick his ass," I choked a little on my beer in an attempt to laugh. As a result, she started to laugh. "Anyways, I could always have an extra set of hands. Any tips you get, you keep."

"I appreciate that, but what am I gonna do with a six month old baby? Looks bad hippin' one around in a bar," I replied in a joking manner. Jo swatted my arm, leaning in on her elbows.

"We get us a monitor, keep her in the back. When she's up, just stay with her until you can get out," she summed up. "Take turns with the cutie."

I smiled at her. "A'ight, then. That's settled. You got an extra set of hands."

Jo grinned back at me, lifting her bottle up. "Here's to us."

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**February 1**__**st**_

"_I'm sorry, but the number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service—"_ I snapped my cell phone shut, throwing it to the floorboard on the passenger side, then slammed my hands against the steering wheel. "Christ!" I shouted, feeling my blood boil with each passing second. "Abigail, I swear to God when I found out where you went…" I shook my head. "God damn it!"

I was seeing red.

Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, I let out a heavy breath, glancing down at them; my knuckles were stark white. Unclenching my hands, I felt blood rush back into them as I took my foot off the accelerator—I was going over one-o-five.

I took another deep breath. I needed to calm down _now_. The past week and a half, two weeks, have been more than hell on me. I was emotionally and physically drained, but I_ had_ to hold it together for the sake of my brother and daughter…and dare I admit, _Abigail_? I glanced in the rearview mirror, half-expecting Megan to be back there, along with Abigail, but they were nowhere in sight. In turn, I clenched my jaw, feeling my teeth grind together.

Despite wanting so badly to be pissed off at her, I couldn't—I was more pissed off at myself.

"_You're never going to change, Abigail!_ _You don't care about Megan, or Sam! Hell, even me!"_

"_Dean, please, let me explain." Abigail's voice broke._

"_No, get the hell out of here, and don't come back."_

"_Fine, but Megan's goin' with me."_

She'd been gone almost two weeks with no signs of activity. Her phone had been shut off—both of them. The credit card Charlie had given her hadn't been used in I don't know how long. She had gone off the grid, with Megan. To pile on that, Sam had been missing for the better half of a week and a half.

Pulling off at an underpass, the car came to a halt. I nearly tore the door off getting out, slamming it shut behind me as I walked around it. For a beat, I wanted nothing more than to receive a call from Sam or Abigail. This was driving me up the wall. I needed to call Ellen again.

Maybe she'd heard from one of them by now. Opening the passenger side door, I fished my phone from the floorboard, finding Ellen's number with ease. On the second ring, Ellen answered, "_Hello?"_

I scrubbed my face roughly with my phone pressed up against my ear, "Ellen, it's me again. Any chance you've heard from him?"

"_No, I sure haven't, Dean_," Ellen replied, a toughened sympathy in her voice.

My chest tightened out of fear…and possibly regret.

_Fuck_. Shaking my head, I shifted beside my car, feeling as if I was about to vomit. I was numb from countless hours of just searching for Sam. "I swear, it's like looking for my dad all over again. I'm losing my mind here."

"_What about Abigail? Have you heard from her?_" Ellen asked.

I shut my eyes out of remorse. "No," I muttered. "Her phone's shut off, and I can't even get a trace on it." I brought my hand up to my face, running it down roughly once again. "I've called Sam a thousand times, too. Nothing but voicemail. I don't know where he went, or why. Sam's just gone, and Abigail's dropped off the radar with Megan." My phone beeped, signaling someone was trying to call in. Hope flared within my chest. "Hang on."

I looked on the screen, showing another incoming call. It was Sam's cell. "Sammy? Where the hell are you? Are you okay?"

"_Dean, is Abigail and the baby with you? I don't know…I didn't…Dean, I don't know what's going on or what's happening."_ Sam sounded as though he were hyperventilating and crying at the same time. I grew sick with worry about him.

"Hey, hey, hey! Calm down," I told him. "Where are you?"

"_I don't know, Dean…"_ There was a brief pause. "_Twin Lakes, Minnesota. The Redwood Inn, Room 109,_" he replied.

I struggled to understand what he said for a moment due to the rapid string of words coming over the phone, but I managed to get something together. I nodded, sliding behind the wheel of my car. "All right, don't move, I'm on my way." I snapped the phone shut, dropping it beside me as I pulled out from where I was sitting; the wheels screeching when they hit the pavement.

My eyes dropped to the speedometer, I was pushing ninety-five. "Not fast enough," I grumbled out, pressing my foot against the accelerator. Within an hour, I was passing a sign reading _Twin Lakes_, within thirty minutes of that, I was pulling into The Redwood Inn. Throwing the car in park, I got out. Inside, I walked…okay _ran_, frantically down a narrow hallway. If Sam was hurt in any way, or _worse_, I wasn't going to forgive myself.

"C'mon," I muttered to myself, checking each and every door number. "_C'mon_." I stopped short, seeing room One-O-Nine. My stomach twisted. "Sam, it's me," I called out, knocking on the door. I didn't hear a reply.

"Sam!" Trying the door, I found that it was open. For a terrifying moment, I was assuming the worst. Pushing it open, I stepped through the threshold, seeing Sam sitting on one of the beds, staring at his hands. "Sam? Hey."

"Hey, Dean," came his broken reply. He didn't bother looking up. I crossed the room, and kneeled beside him.

"Are you bleeding?" I asked, lifting his bloody hands to survey the damage.

"I tried to wash it off," he answered dully. My eyes fell to his abdomen, to the blood-soaked shirt. My heart sunk.

"Oh my god," I picked up his shirt, searching for the source of the blood.

"I don't think it's my blood," Sam muttered, not making an attempt to stop me.

With furrowed brows, I looked up at him, concerned. "Whose is it?"

Sam held his gaze at his shirt. "I don't know."

"Sam, what the hell happened?" I grated out.

Sam's gaze fixated on me. "Dean...I don't remember anything." I could see the horror and bewilderment in his gaze. I felt like such a failure for not being there sooner. "Dean?"

I blinked, turning my gaze from his shirt to his distraught expression. "Yeah, Sam?"

His eyes flitted around the room, searching for someone. "Where's Abigail and the baby?" Remaining silent, Sam's chest started to heave. "Dean, where's Abigail and the baby?" he repeated slowly, his voice wavered a bit; worried, no doubt.

I tightened my jaw until my teeth felt like they were going to shatter from the force. "They're not here, Sam."

"What?" he breathed out, eyes widening, then stared at his shirt, tears filling up his eyes, "I didn't—"

I shook my head. "No. No, you didn't do anything to hurt them, Sam," I told him quickly, "I screwed up." Confusion appeared on my brother's face. "Just…don't worry about it, all right?" I cleared my throat, patting my brother on the arm. "Go get cleaned up. I'm going to grab you some clothes, and find out what could've happened."

Sam nodded. "Okay."

* * *

Returning to the room carrying a bag of food. Closing the door behind me, I noticed that Sam had already changed clothes, and looked a little less out of it.

"What'd you find out?" he questioned eagerly as I sat the food down.

I glanced up at him after setting out a Coke. "You checked in two days ago under the name Richard Sambora," I tilted my head. "Of course, I think the scariest part about this whole thing is the fact that you're a Bon Jovi fan."

Sam didn't look too happy. "Dean."

"Your room's been quiet, nobody's noticed anything unusual," I said, getting back on track.

"You mean no one saw me walking around covered in blood?" Sam corrected me.

"Yeah. That's what I mean," I replied nonchalantly.

"Then how the hell did I get here, Dean? What happened to me?" Sam demanded, getting angry. "Where's Abigail and the baby?"

"I don't know," I replied, shrugging. "But you're—you're okay, and that's what matters. Everything else we can deal with."

Sam blinked. "You—you don't know where Abigail and the baby are?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "They're somewhere. Safe, but somewhere."

"Oh really? 'Cause what if I had hurt them? Or someone? Or worse?" Sam retorted.

"Sam…" I pressed my lips together. "I can assure you that you haven't hurt them, or someone, or worse."

"What if this is what Dad warned you about?" he said, giving me a dark look.

I had to admit, that was pretty alarming, "Hey, whoa, whoa, come on man," I said, "let's not jump the gun here. We don't know what happened. We've just got to treat this like, like any other job." Sam cast his gaze down, nodding. "What's the last thing you remember?

"Just me and you with Abigail and Megan, just, in that motel room in West Texas," he summarized. "We were going out to grab some burgers, and..."

I blinked. "West Texas? That was—that was over a week ago."

"That's it." Judging from Sam's deflated expression, I didn't hold in my stunned look too well, "Next thing I knew I was sitting here. Bloody. Felt like I'd been asleep for a month."

"Okay," I said. "Retrace your steps. The manager said you left yesterday afternoon and he never saw you come back, so…" I let the sentence hang after walking over to the window, pulling back the curtain, finding a bloody handprint on the glass. I furrowed my brows at it knowing Sam wasn't a sloppy hunter. If anything, he was skilled as skilled could get.

I turned, heading for the door, looking to Sam over my shoulder. "Hey." We walked a few paces outside of the motel, standing in the rain, nonetheless. "Recognize anything?"

"Not really," Sam answered. This was a kick in the pants. We then headed to the parking garage out back. "Wait."

I stopped. "What?"

His eyes remained locked on a couple of storage units. "I think I was here."

"You remember?" I questioned as Sam began walking towards them.

"Not really, it just ... feels familiar, you know?" I merely shrugged, moving to the nearest garage. Sam looked over to the second, pointing at it. "Try that one." I motioned to it, seeing him nod. "Yeah."

I tugged on the padlock for good measure. "Okay."

"Wait." I turned to him, seeing him dig in his pockets, frowning. Upon pulling out a key, he gave me a significant look. I took the key from my brother, unlocking it without a problem. I raised my brows, pulling the garage door to reveal a filthy, beat-up VW beetle.

"Oh, please tell me you didn't steal _this,_" I commented in disgust. I mean, the thing was a hunk of crap! From beside me, Sam fidgeted. Venturing further into garage, we opened both door of the car; Sam on the driver's side, me on the passenger. Sam, however, found something. Lifting his finger, it was red with blood.

"More blood."

My gaze went to the backseat, confirming another suspicion. I pointed to the back. "Sam." He glanced to me. "Back seat." My brother reached down, picking up a blood-stained knife with a shaky hand.

"You think I used this on someone?" Sam asked, eyes landing on me, searching for some kind of answer. I mean, what am I? Einstein?

"I'm not thinking anything," I answered as Sam took a shaky breath, rubbing the knife handle off the inside of his jacket. Another thing caught my attention. I leaned in, picking up a pack of cigarettes, "Okay now this is disturbing," I said, earning a fearful expression from Sam. "Come on, man, this couldn't have been you. Had to have been someone else, somebody who, uh," I held the pack to my nose, "smokes menthols." Despite the nagging feeling I had in my gut, I hoped like hell everything was just a coincidence, yet, everything was lining up to him. Evidence doesn't lie.

"Here. Gas receipt," Sam said, reaching into a cup. "Few towns over."

* * *

We drove to the gas station in silence. During the drive there, I would find myself glancing in the rearview mirror, half-expecting to see Abigail and Megan back there. Why I would find myself feeling disappointed when realizing they weren't there is beyond me. "All right. Receipt's for ten gallons at pump number two. You getting any, uh, any goosebumps yet? 'God, this looks familiar', deja vu vibes?" I questioned, watching Sam shake his head quietly. "Maybe someone inside'll remember you. Come on."

We got out, going into the convenience store. The clerk behind the register looked up in shock, then anger. Not the kind of reaction I wanted to see.

"You," he pointed to Sam. "Outta here now, I'm calling the cops."

I raising my brows in surprise, glancing from the clerk to Sam. "You talking to him?"

"Yeah, I'm talking to him," the clerk replied, his voice hitched with fear and anger. "Jerk comes in yesterday, stinking drunk, grabs a forty from the fridge, starts chugging."

_Whoa. Sam? No way_, I thought, then pointed to Sam. "This guy?" I turned to him, shocked. "You're drinking malt liquor?"

"Not after he whipped the friggin' bottle at my head," the clerk retorted, getting more furious as he spoke.

"_This_ guy?" I reiterated.

The clerk scoffed, "What, am I speaking Urdu?'

"Look, I'm really sorry if I did anything–" Sam began, only to be cut off by the pissed off clerk.

"Tell your story walkin', pal. Po-po will be here in five," he lifted the phone to his ear, beginning to dial nine-one-one.

I held my hands up to show the man we meant no harm. "Wait, wait, put the phone down," I told him, causing the clerk to pause. "Sam, go wait in the car.'

"But Dean—" Sam argued.

I shot him a look. "Go wait in the car!" Relenting, Sam let out a sigh and left. "Okay, look, man. I just want to talk to you, that's it. Okay?" The clerk hesitated before hanging up the phone. "Now, when he took off yesterday, which way did he go?"

"Why don't you ask him?" he retorted, nodding toward Sam, who was at the Impala.

"'Cause I'm asking you," I said smoothly. "Now please, you'd be doing me a huge favor."

"Oh, do you a favor?" he said sarcastically. "Well, that is what I live for. You know, your buddy didn't pay for the booze. Okay? Or the smokes, which he also illegally lit up."

"You saw him _smoking_?" I asked in shock. This wasn't like him. He was a health-freak! 'As in, my body is a temple and must keep it pure.' Holy shit. Abigail would beat his ass for it…except, she's not here.

"Yeah. Guy's a chimney," he informed me, his anger not dying down in the least.

Clearing my throat, I reached back, pulling my wallet out, and placed two bills on the desk. "This, uh, ought to cover it."

"Hmm. It's, uh, it's coming back to me now," the clerk added. "He took two packs."

I pulled out more money. "Of course he did."

"He went north. Route 71, straight out of town," the clerk added. I nodded, grabbing two candy bars, and left with a smirk.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Duluth, Minnesota**_

_**Jo's Bar—Night**_

Dolly Parton and Ricky Van Shelton's duet _Rockin' Years_ played over the jukebox in the smoke-filled bar. Peanut husks and broken pretzels lie scattered across the hardwood floors haphazardly. Men's laughter could be heard throughout, oftentimes being heard _over top_ the music.

I set down four beers in front of four men, hunters, without a doubt. I smiled kindly to them. "Four beers for the gentlemen. Anythin' else I can't y'all?"

One of the patrons, a middle-aged man with a grizzled beard, chuckled. "Nah, that's all."

I nodded, smiling to each man. "Alrighty, just holler if y'all need anythin'."

"Will do!" another one, an older man with graying hair added.

"Hang on…" someone added. I paused, looking back to the third individual quizzically, "Aren't you Steven's girl?"

I faced him, folding my arms across my chest. "Yeah, I am," I replied slowly. "Why?"

"He was a good man, my condolences," he told me with sincerity. "John Winchester raised you though, right?"

Again, I nodded, growing uncomfortable. "Yeah…Lost him six months ago."

"Toughest sum'bitch I ever met," the first man said. "One hell of a hunter."

"Yes, he was," I replied, then let out a heavy sigh, forcing a smile. "I'm glad I could help y'all out…" I turned and returned to the bar where I tended two others before Jo came out from the back. "Hey."

"Hey, what'd I miss?" she asked, trading out aprons with me.

I shook my head. "The usual, older than the hills hunters making late condolences." Jo raised her brows at me. "It's fine though, nothin' I can't handle. How was Rugrat?"

"She's fine, dirty diaper. Took her bottle and went back to sleep," Jo replied. "She hasn't slept well lately, has she?"

"No, not really," I said, handing a man an empty shot glass, filling it with straight bourbon. He nodded in thanks, tossing the drink into his mouth. "Been like that since I left." I turned to grab another bottle.

"Have you tried calling him?" she asked.

I arched my brow. "I've got to be the _last_ person he wants to hear from, much less wants to see."

A woman sat down at the bar. "A green apple martini, please."

I smiled at her. "Comin' right up." I turned to Jo. "Who's the ritzy-ditzy woman?" I whispered.

Jo shrugged, equally curious of the newcomer. "I have no clue."

"Oh well, more business for us," I chirped, grabbing the apple liqueur, vodka, and lemon juice, followed by filling up a shaker a third of the way full of ice and added the liquids. Covering the shaker, I shook it for a good ten seconds, pouring the contents into a martini glass, garnishing it with a green apple slice. "For the lady."

The woman smiled, "Thanks." Glancing out across the floor, the door to the bar opened. Two men, one taller than the other entered. My heart leapt into my throat.

"Sam? Dean?" I asked aloud. "There's no way." As they got closer, I realized, it wasn't them. I grasped the edge of the bar tightly, breathing in deeply, forcing back tears. Truth was, I missed them.

Oh God, I missed them.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Road—Night**_

"What's going on with you, Sam? Hm?" I asked, more than ready for an explanation. A viable one. "'Cause smoking, throwing bottles at people, I mean, that sounds more like Abigail than you." I smirked, remembering her back in the day. "I mean, I've seen her do some crazy things…"

"Dean, wait, right here." Sam pointed. "Turn down that road."

"What?" I asked in surprise.

"I don't know how I know, I just do," Sam replied. I frowned, jerking the wheel quickly so that I didn't miss this turnoff. We went down a back road that led us to a large house with plenty of emergency lighting and security cameras outside. Sam leaned forward, taking in the setup. Hell, I did too. Whoever lived here was a spaz.

We got out of the car, walking up the lighted steps as another bright light switched on. I winced at how bright it was. Judging from the camera and light duo, someone had a security camera on the other side.

"Whoever lives here, I'd say they don't like surprises," Sam deduced.

"Should we knock?" I questioned, unsure where the owner was at or if they were armed.

Sam lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Yeah. I guess." I knocked on the door while Sam went around the corner. "Hey, Dean," I heard him call out. With furrowed brows, I went around the corner to where Sam was at, finding him standing before a shattered window.

"I'm surprised the cops didn't show," I commented. "Place like this you'd think it'd have an alarm."

"Yeah, you would," Sam murmured.

Entering the house, the entire place was a train wreck; the floor was covered in broken glass and scattered things. Signs of a break-in and struggle. Deep down, I knew something was bad. Making our way to the back of the house, my light caught an unmoving form. A body to be exact.

"Hit the lights," I ordered, as Sam moved over to a nearby wall. The room lit up as I knelt behind the body and turned it over cautiously. I grimaced, seeing that this was a middle-aged man with his throat cut, placing my fist to my mouth. Behind me, Sam stared down in horror.

"Dean, I did this," Sam whispered.

"We don't know that," I told him.

"What else do you need?" he protested. "I mean, how else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood –"

"I don't know, man, why don't you tell me?!" I snapped. "Look, even if you did do this I'm sure you had a reason, you know; self-defense, uh, he was, he was a bad son of a bitch, something!" I patted down the body. "He doesn't have any ID."

"I need your lock pick."

I looked back to Sam, confused. "What?"

"I need your lock pick," he said. I shrugged, reaching into my jacket for the item, and handed it to him. Taking it, Sam went over to a double-door closet in the room. He made short work of the lock, opening it to reveal a room; one room completely covered in firearms, the others in charts and clippings.

"Holy ..." My eyes fell to each weapon this guy had along his wall. "Either this guy's a Unabomber—"

"Or a hunter," Sam finished. "Dean, I think I killed a hunter."

I looked around the room, searching for some shred of evidence, seeing a security camera near the ceiling. "Let's find out." It only took a couple of minutes to get the video feed set up on the computer that sat in the living room. I stood behind Sam as he cued up the security tape.

There was no way that Sam could've done something like this. It just wasn't possible! Despite the reluctant feeling I had, we might as well get this show on the road. "Here we go."

On the tape, Sam ran into the room, fighting the same man who was lying dead on the floor behind us. The man kicked Sam, who in turn knocked him out of frame, before being drug back. Dread knotted deep within my stomach.

_No, man._ I thought watching my brother kneel above the man, grab a knife from off the table, and sliced his throat. I clenched my jaw. I pulled back from the screen and straightened up, turning to look at Sam, who just gazed down. Neither of us spoke for a long time. I still couldn't believe it. Rather than jump his case, I took to action, finding out a way to wipe our prints.

Sam sat at the desk, staring at a page in his hand while I was wiping down anything that we could've touched. "How do you erase this? Huh?" Sam didn't budge. "Sam, come on, I need your help."

"I killed him, Dean. I just broke in and killed him." His voice was quiet and numb. Like he was already condemning himself as some kind of monster. He wasn't. Sure, it was him in the video, but there had to be something else! There just had to!

"Listen to me. Whoever this guy is, he's a hunter. Which means that other hunters are going to come looking for his killer, which means we've got to cover our tracks, okay?" I informed him.

"His name was Steve Wandell," Sam replied, holding up the piece of paper. "This is a letter from his daughter." I looked from Sam to the letter, making a decision. I grabbed the CPU, lifted it above my head, and slammed it onto the ground; smashing it and stomping on it for good measure. I looked to my brother, still sitting there like a lump on a log. I threw a rag to him. "Wipe your prints, then we go."

* * *

_**Motel Room—Evening**_

"All right, we get a couple hours sleep and then we put this place in our rearview mirror," I told Sam, closing the door behind us. "Look, I know this is bad, okay? You gotta snap out of it." My brother didn't reply. "Sam, say something!"

"Just get some sleep and leave in the morning?" Sam echoed my words tensely. "Murder, Dean. That's what I did."

"Maybe," I told him. Sam scoffed in response. "Okay? Hey, we don't know... shapeshifter!"

"Oh, come on. You know it wasn't," he argued, "you saw the tape. There was no eye flare, no distortion…"

"Yeah, but it wasn't you! All right? I mean, yeah, it might have been you, but it wasn't you," I shot back, wanting more than anything to just get this day over with.

"Well, I think it was," Sam muttered as he sat down on the bed. "I think maybe more than you know."

"What the hell does that mean?" I questioned him, cautious.

"For the last few weeks I've been having ... I've been having these feelings," he looked over to me, swallowing hard. I frowned in concern for him.

I crossed the room, sitting down opposite to him. "What feelings?'

"Rage. Hate," he listed off. "And I can't stop it. It just gets worse. Day by day, it gets worse."

I furrowed my brows. "You never told me this."

"I didn't want to scare you, or Abigail."

I nodded, slapping my knee and stood up. "Well, bang-up job on that."

"Dean, the yellow-eyed demon, you know he has plans for me, and Abigail," he protested. "And we both know that he's turned other children into killers before, too."

I turned back to him. "No one can control you but you."

"It sure doesn't seem like that, Dean, it feels like no matter what I do, slowly but surely I'm, I'm just becoming..."

"What?" I asked harshly.

"Who I'm meant to be." I scoffed, unable to believe what I was hearing. Sure, had Abigail been here, she would've done some kind of diffusing girly-mojo thing, but she wasn't here! "I mean, you said it once yourself, Dean. I gotta face up to who I am."

I splayed out my hands. "I didn't mean this!"

"But it's still true. You know that. Dad knew that too. That's why he told you, if it ever came to this . . ."

"Shut up, Sam," I warned.

"Dean, you promised him. You promised me, Abigail—"

"Abigail isn't here!" I snapped. "She hasn't been here in almost two weeks, alright? If you remember West Texas, then _surely_ you remember what happened there." Sam turned his gaze to the floor. "Listen to me. We're gonna figure this out, with or without her. Okay? I mean, there's gotta be a way, right?"

"Yeah there is." Sam took a handgun from his duffle, shoving it to me. "I don't wanna hurt anyone else. I don't wanna hurt you."

I looked down at the gun Sam was trying to hand off to me. "You won't. Whatever this is, you can fight it."

"No. I can't. Not forever," he protested, teary eyed. "Here, you gotta do it." He shoved the gun towards me once again. Neither of us moved until Sam became frustrated, taking my hand and placed the gun in my palm. I couldn't believe what was going on.

"You know, I've tried too hard to keep you safe," I started.

Sam nodded. "I know."

I shook my head. "I can't. I'd rather die." I dropped the gun on the bed, shouldering past Sam.

"No. You'll live," I heard him say, causing me to turn and face him. "You'll live to regret this." Before I could react, Sam swung the pistol across my face, knocking me out.

* * *

I woke up to the sound of an insistent knocking on the door. The motel manager, I guess, opened the door. "Hey. It's past your checkout."

I got up, still pretty out of it. "What?"

"It's past checkout, and I've got a couple here needs your room," he motioned to an embarrassed business man with a hooker.

"Yeah, I'll bet they do," I said dryly. "What time is it?"

"Twelve-thirty."

"That guy who was with me, have you seen him?" I questioned him with urgency.

He nodded. "Yeah, he left before dawn in your car, and you should have gone with him, because now I'm gonna have to charge you extra."

"Oh, son of a..." I muttered.

"It's just policy, sir," he said.

"I need to use your computer," I told him, catching the look of confusion.

"Now, why would I let you use my computer?"

Inside the lobby, the manager stood nearby, counting a stack of cash—my cash that I won fair and square, by the way—as I talked on the phone in front of a desktop computer. "Hi, uh, so sorry to bother you, but uh, my son snuck out of the house last night and, uh, went to a Justin Timberlake concert." I paused listening to what the woman on the other line had to say. "What? Yeah. No, Justin is quite the triple threat," I chuckled. "Uh, anyway, he's not back yet, and, and I'm just, I'm starting to worry."

I rolled my eyes when she mentioned something about 'boys being boys and whatnot', I didn't have the time for this chit-chat. "Right. Yeah, boys will be boys. But see, Sammy is uh uh uh, a diabetic, and uh, if he doesn't get his insulin, I just, I have to find him. Please, I'm begging you." I nodded. "Yeah, no no no, I"m on the website right now, I just need to activate the GPS in his cell phone." I entered a password, the GPS screen showing the name Dean J. Mahogoff, mobile phone number 785-555-2804.

"Yeah, right there. Duluth, Minnesota," I nodded again. "Yeah, that is a long way to go for a concert. I appreciate your help."

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Jo's Bar—Night **_

_**Duluth, Minnesota**_

_What I've Done_ by Linkin Park played on the radio in the back room. Megan was in the floor on her stomach trying her best to crawl. I was across from her on mine, grinning from ear to ear as she grunted and whined from being so frustrated. "C'mon, baby girl," I urged. "You can do it!" Megan got up on her hands and knees, moving back and forth. That's all she could get out, until she moved her arm forward. My heart leapt up in my throat. "Yes! You can do it!"

She teetered, becoming off balance, then fell face first into the carpet. As soon as she hit, I held my breath, thinking that she was going to start crying. I _knew _she had hurt her forehead, yet, she sprawled out, rolled over to the left, and sat up with a puckered lip. I sat up, reached out to her, and took her in my arms. "It happens to the best of us, little woman." Kissing her forehead gently, I ran my fingers through her hair. "Better luck next time, huh? Let's go see what Jo's doin'."

Megan let out a coo that sounded vaguely like "I good."

I grinned. "Yeah, you're good."

_Not safe, run._ A voice whispered.

I stiffened as the hairs on my neck stood up. In an instant, I went from mom-mode to hunter-mode in the matter of point three seconds, taking Megan to the Pack and Play, and set her down in it. "Mommy's goin' to be right back, okay?" I whispered to her, sinking down to take her in. She looked so much like Dean, it was painful. Those big hazel eyes of hers were dazzling. Right now in this moment, my mind went straight to _this is going to be my last time seeing her_. I straightened up, bending over to kiss Megan on her head. "I love you, Megan."

Reaching over to the table, I opened the drawer taking out my pistol and checked the clip; it was full. Putting the weapon behind me, I made my way to the door and listened. I could sense Jo's suspicion and another one…it was familiar, yet, _different._ There was this…_animosity_. It had me nervous. My breathing was already shaking from the anticipation.

"How'd you find me?" Jo asked, suspicion coating her voice.

"Well, uh, it's kind of what we do, you know?"

I furrowed my brows. "Sam?" I questioned myself as my heart sank.

"Speaking of '_we_', where's Dean?" Jo continued, knowing if Sam was here, then Dean would be too—especially if he knew Megan and I were here.

Sam let out a hum. "Couldn't make it." Pressing my hand against the door, I opened it, feeling Jo and Sam's eyes on me. I froze upon making eye contact with Sam. His visage flickered to that of a hellish creature before returning back to 'Sam'. My stomach twisted in knots. I didn't want this to happen.

_Sam_, of all people.

'Sam' smiled almost in a matter of fact way, like he _knew_ I was here. "Abby, I didn't know you were here."

_Bullshit, _I thought, cautiously approaching the bar where Jo and Sam were at. "What're you doing here Sam?" I questioned, skipping the small talk. "Where's Dean?"

He tilted his head to the side, his smile subsiding more into a smirk. "Like I was telling Jo, he couldn't make it."

I glanced over to Jo, who seemed just as suspicious. "I mean, neither of us exactly parted on the best of terms."

"Right. Um, well, that's why I'm here," he took off his jacket. "I kinda—I wanted to see if we could square things, you know?" Jo arched her brow, as did I. "With the both of you." It was so hard to not blow this demon's cover. The only thing keeping it that way was Megan, I couldn't endanger her. Jo's face scrunched a little bit.

"That looks like it hurts," she commented, nodding toward a burn on his forearm. I glanced at it. The mark looked like a circle with a line through it.

"No," Sam replied, nonchalant. "Nah, just, just had a run-in with a hot stove."

I raised a brow at that. Having grown up with Sam, he was _not_ a clumsy person. In fact, he was one of the most agile people I know, aside from Dean. John didn't raise a fool.

Jo crossed her arms. "So you were saying something about squaring things?"

"Yeah. Um ... Look, I know how you feel about my dad..." There was a beat, to which he glanced to me, "and hers," he added. I furrowed my brows at him—_it_. "And I can't say I blame you. He—_they_ were obsessed—consumed with hunting."

I pursed my lips. This was a sick joke. I glanced to Jo, who was fixated on him. Deep inside, I hoped like hell she wasn't playing into this. I sensed that she was on high-alert, as she kept glancing at me for cues. I just hoped she held fast and didn't jump the gun. I don't think Jo had ever dealt with a demon before.

"—and they didn't care who got caught in the cross-fire," the demon possessing Sam rambled on. "And I guess that included your dad. But that was my father and hers—that's not me."

"What about Dean?" Jo asked.

Sam shrugged. "Well, Dean's more like my father than I am, but he—" I shot a withering glare at Sam, sensing the cynicism radiate off of the demon. He laughed at the both of us. "Boy. You're really carrying a torch for him, aren't you two?" Jo glanced to me as I remained silent.

_Now was not the time to show my ass_.

Again, Sam smirked. "I'll take that as a yes. It's too bad." His smirk tightened into a smile, focusing more on Jo. "'Cause see, Dean, he likes you—sure, but not in the way you'd want." I clenched my jaw at the demon's words. _Why do this to Jo?_ "I mean, maybe as kind of a-a little sister, you know? But—romance?" The tight smile expanded into a grin. "That's just out of the question, he—" Sam started to laugh. "He kind of thinks you're a schoolgirl, you know?"

His eyes fell on me. "Now, Abby? My brother is pathetically, head over heels for you. Has you up on this—this pedestal. It's sad, really. You could do better." There was a pause, assessing Jo and I's reactions. I kept my mouth shut, fully aware that this wasn't Sam talking. Jo's eyes flickered over to me, almost stunned. "I'm not trying to hurt you, guys, I—I'm telling you 'cause I care."

_Bullshit._ I thought, fingering a small bottle of Holy Water I had under the bar.

"That's real kind of you, Sam," Jo spoke slowly.

Sam reached out, placing his hand over hers on the bar; suggestively. "I care about you a lot." His other skimmed the back of my hand rather possessively. "You too, Abby." I retracted my hand, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

"Sam, what's goin' on?" I questioned, seeing a dark look pass through his eyes, remaining focused on Jo. Jo tried to pull her hand away and couldn't. Sam wouldn't let go.

"I can be more to you, Jo."

"Maybe you should leave," I suggested, forcefully taking Jo's hand away from Sam, and put her between us. Sam's jaw tightened, his eyes boring holes in me. I returned the glare.

After a tense moment, he pursed his lips. "Okay." He shoved himself away from the bar, standing to leave. Jo faced the bar, leaning on it heavily as I watched Sam leave the establishment. My heart hammered in my chest from the surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

"Jo, before you say anythin', that wasn't Sam," I murmured, reaching under the bar for bar's phone. She turned her head with furrowed brows.

"That _was_ Sam, Abigail," she protested. "What the hell is his problem?"

I tapped my foot with urgency as I dialed a phone number. "Trust me when I say that he's not right in the head."

"_Sorry, pal. I'm not lookin' to do any jobs,"_ Dean's voice grated out.

I bit my lip. "Dean, it's me. You need to get here. Sam ain't actin' right…"

There was a long bout of silence, the roar of the Impala could be heard. "_Abigail?_ _Where are you? He hasn't hurt you, has he?_"

"No. Not yet," I replied. "Get here. Duluth, Minnesota. Jo has a bar located on 5th—"

_Behind you_, another voice whispered. I froze, unable to hear Dean's voice when Jo started screaming. "Sam, get off me!"

I dropped the phone, twisting around to see Sam grab Jo from behind. "Sam! Get off her!" I shouted over her screaming 'Let go!' Grabbing the bottle of holy water, I opened it, splashing the contents across his back. With a pained shout, Sam shoved Jo away from her. I watched as she stumbled forward and smacked her head off the corner of the bar, knocking her out.

I glanced to Sam, who had kneeled on the floor out of pain. "_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas…_" Sam twisted around to face me, his eyes the color of obsidian. His lips curled up in a snarl, emitting a low, animalistic growl before lunging at me. I moved quickly, clearing the bar into the open floor of the room. "_Omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica._"

Sam hefted himself over the bar as well, his boots hitting the floor with a thud. "_Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te_…" I broke the sentence off, dodging his arm when he swung out. In turn, I retaliated with a quick jab to his side, followed by bringing the heel of my boot across his back, sending him to the floor. I backed away, glancing over to Jo's unconscious form, continuing the exorcism. "…_cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare_…" Sam's hand latched onto my ankle like a vice, causing me to let out a pained cry.

With my other foot, I kicked him in the face again in order to get released. This exorcism wasn't even working! Getting to his feet with hell in his eyes, Sam advanced once again. I glanced over to another part of the bar that had another bottle of holy water, and sprinted for it. Halfway there, Sam tackled me to the floor; the both of us rolling until I slammed the back of my head against the ground.

"_Vade…satana, inventor et magister omnis…_" I gritted out. "_fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis…_" Sam's hand gripped my throat, cutting me off. I clawed at his hand, _knowing_ I was done for. This was how he was going to kill me.

"Abby, Abby, Abby…" he taunted, his body over top of me. This wasn't the little boy I had grown up with. "I can see why he likes you…always a fighter." A sadistic sense of amusement flowed through me from him—the demon—as he watched me struggle underneath him. I didn't think he was this heavy!

"Fuck. You," I mouthed out, only for him to grit his teeth. Pain erupted across my face followed by the metallic taste of blood. Sam backhanded me.

"It didn't have to be this way," he said, pausing for a beat, grinning. "Then again, maybe it did." The last thing I saw was Sam's fist flying towards me, knocking me out.

_Abigail, you need to wake up._ I heard a voice whisper.

I blinked slowly, letting out a pained sound upon feeling a throb in my head, mouth, and nose. Blood was still pouring from my nose, I came to the conclusion it had to be broken, or busted really good. The taste of copper coated my tongue like a metallic blanket, causing me to spit; tendrils of thick, red saliva hung from my lips. Everything rushed back, and I jerked again. From under hooded eyes, I looked down seeing that I was restrained in a chair. I could hear _Crystal Ship_ by The Doors play from the jukebox, all while being nauseatingly slammed by fear and an overwhelmed by this seething hatred. My head was spinning.

"What the hell is going on?" Jo's voice wavered. "What are you doing?"

"So what exactly did your mom tell you about how your dad died?" Sam questioned.

"You're not Sam," Jo replied.

I heard Sam hum. "Don't be so sure about that. Answer the question." Silence fell between the two while I tried to gain some kind of visual focus. I just couldn't. Sam sighed heavily, walking around something—a beam, maybe—and halted. He was doing something to Jo, I just couldn't focus on what it was!

"Come on. It's me," he purred out. "You can tell me anything, you know that." Again, he was greeted with silence, the façade he held diminished, being replaced with a dark demeanor…a dangerous one. "Answer. The question," he growled out.

"Fine."

"Fine," Sam retorted.

Jo inhaled shakily. "Our dads were in California: Devil's Gate Reservoir," she began. "They were setting a trap for some kind of hell spawn. John and Steven were hiding, waiting, and my dad was bait."

"That's just like those two," Sam replied with a laugh. "Oh, I'll bet he dangled Bill like meat on a hook. Then what?" I shook my head, fighting the haze, spitting out more blood when the sound of a chair grated across the floor, followed by boots.

"The thing showed up," Jo continued. "John got too eager, before Steven could do anything to stop him, John jumped out too soon, got my dad exposed, out in the open. The thing turned around ... and killed him."

"Hmm. Not quite."

"What?" Jo asked, confused.

"What?" The demon possessing Sam echoed. "Oh. See, it hurt him," he said flatly. "It didn't kill him. You really don't know the truth, do you?" An amused scoff left him. "I bet your mom doesn't either."

"Know what?" Jo queried.

"You see, Bill ... was all clawed up. Was holding his insides in his hands. He was gurgling and ... praying to see you and Ellen one more time. So our dads... killed him. Put him out of his misery like a sick dog."

Jo started to sob. "You're lying."

"I'm not. It's true. Our daddies shot your daddy in the head . . ." he said in a low, singsong voice. My blood was boiling.

"How could you know that?" Jo asked.

"I hear things," Sam replied.

"Sam," I called out, wearily, obviously interrupting something. "Leave her alone." Heavy footfalls came closer to me. A large hand shot out, twisting itself in my hair and jerked my head back. With blurred vision, I could see the outline of Sam before flickering into a demon. I grimaced, baring my teeth at the pain in my head.

"It's about time you woke up, Abby," Sam commented, retaining his grip on my hair. I hissed a little.

"Why are you doing this?" I questioned.

"Like Daddy like daughter," Sam said. "Jo's bait. Now, open up." Sam then shoved a knotted rag into my mouth, tying it around my neck. "That a girl." Letting my head free, Sam grabbed the back of the chair and drug it over to a closet where he slammed the door in my face around the time Jo called out after me.

I started to struggle against the ropes, trying desperately to get out. I couldn't be tied up with Megan being exposed like she was. Especially to Sam being possessed. My feet were the only things that Sam neglected to tie up. Sensing someone else approaching the bar, my heart leapt.

The door burst open. "Sam!"

"I begged you to stop me, Dean," Sam shouted, acting desperate.

"Put the knife down, dammit," Dean demanded.

"I told you I can't fight it!" Sam begged. "My head feels like it's on fire, all right?!" A baby was crying…_my_ baby. There was another overwhelming sensation of fear washing over me—it was Dean. I could almost see his expression flicker from dead serious to scared for a split second. It had gotten dead quiet in the room; as in you could've heard a pin drop. The only thing you could hear was Megan's cries. "Dean. Kill me, or I'm going to kill her," Sam said slowly. "Please. You'd be doing me a favor! Shoot me." There a pause. "Shoot me!"

"No, Sammy, come on," Dean urged.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Dean?" Sam screamed at his brother. "Are you that scared of losing your brother that you'd rather let Jo, Abigail, and Megan die?" Again, you could've heard a pin drop until Sam's screams filled the air.

"That's holy water, you demonic son of a bitch!" I heard Dean snap, followed by a series of inhuman growls and a loud crash; the sound of glass shattering.

"He was possessed?!" Jo questioned Dean. "Dean!" There was silence. Dean had left in pursuit of Sam. I blinked back tears, shaking for the most part.

"'o!" I yelled out against the rag. I stomped the ground as hard as I could to draw Jo's attention. "'o!" Quick footfalls ran up to the closet, swinging the door open, revealing Jo. She was carrying a knife in her hand, her eyes were wide with shock.

"Abigail, oh my god," she breathed out. "I'm gonna get you loose." Taking the gag out of my mouth, she moved to my wrists tied behind my back, cutting away the bonds.

"He didn't touch Megan?" I asked.

Jo shook her head. "No, Dean didn't give him the chance." I rubbed my wrists, blinking away tears. I couldn't hold them back for long. I leaned forward, my hands shaking as I brought them to my head and let out a sob. Jo laid her hand gently on my back. "Megan's fine, Abigail. That's gotta count for something, right?" I nodded.

"Yeah," I muttered, wiping the tears from my face. "I need to see her." Jo helped me up, I didn't bother to wipe the blood from my face. Walking into the back room where Megan was screaming, I scooped her up in my arms. I buried my face against her as her hands wrapped around my shirt tightly, wiping her face against my shoulder. "Momma's here," I murmured. "Momma's here."

"You knew Sam was possessed," Jo said quietly. Turning with Megan in my arms, I nodded. "You knew as soon as you saw him…your powers?"

"Yeah…" I answered her in a small voice. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Jo smiled a little. "Nothing I can't handle…Why didn't you say something?"

"If I did, there would've been a chance you would've been killed," I replied honestly, seeing the beginning of a bruise on her forehead. "Jo, I'm so sorry—" I began, only to be cut off by her holding her hand up, silencing me.

"Abigail, it's not your fault."

I observed her for a moment. "Jo, I could've done somethin'."

"You did," she replied. "You called Dean, and he saved us." All at once, pain exploded in my shoulder like I had been shot, causing me to stumbled back. Jo's eyes widened. "Abigail, what's wrong?"

"Somethin's happened," I gritted out, putting Megan back in her pack and play. I held my shoulder tightly, taking a seat at the end of the bed. "Go look for Dean." I handed her my pistol. "Be careful." Leaving me behind with Megan, I remained seated. I didn't want to be found by Dean. He was the last person I wanted to see, but he was the first person to go to, especially with Sam involved.

I was still sailing on choppy seas with him.

* * *

Taking Megan into the bar with me, I pulled out her high chair, sitting her down in it, "Mommy's goin' to go clean up." Turning on some of the overhead lights, I stood in front of the mirror. Aside from the usual _Night of the Living Dead_ appearance, I was beginning to take the part of half the zombie population on _Resident Evil._ I had a rather large cut on my cheek with blood seeping down, stopping short of my collarbone, while blood was caked at the corners of my mouth, and smeared across my chin. I didn't even want to get started on my nose.

Reaching out to twist the knobs, I leaned over and caught some of the water, washing the blood off my face gingerly. I grabbed a towel nearby, holding it against my face for a good moment before I patted my face dry. Since the blood was washed off, I could see a nasty bruise starting in under both of my eyes. "That's lovely," I huffed out. "Your momma's gonna be sore in the mornin', little woman."

I looked at my daughter from over my shoulder, watching her stick her tongue out and pat the table in front of her. My gaze softened. She was completely oblivious, which was a good thing. She wasn't going to remember anything when she got older. Holding the rag in my hand, I went over to her, wiping off the smear of blood she had on the side of her face. As she always reacted to her face being wiped off, she started swatting at my hands, whining until I got what I could.

Sensing two presences, I turned as the door swung open with Jo and Dean entering; Dean soaking wet and bleeding. Rounding the bar, I pulled out a chair. "Set him here, Jo. I'll get the first aid from under the bar." Jo nodded as she sat him down in the chair.

Leaning back, Dean's gaze stayed on me when I rounded back behind the bar. "You've been here all this time?" he questioned.

Holding the first aid kit in my hands, I straightened up. "Gee, no, hey Abs, lookin' good?" I quipped, earning pointed look from him. "You know how to make a girl feel like one in a million," I added sarcastically before I turned to Jo. "Where was he?"

"On a ramp at the docks," she replied, "He's shot in the shoulder, there's no exit wound."

I nodded, turning to look at Dean. "Lovely. Looks like we gotta dig it out."

Dean slung his right hand in the air, letting it slap against his lap. "_Great_," he gritted out sarcastically.

I turned to Jo. "I need the strongest whiskey you got, cause he's gonna need it." I approached Dean like I had just seen him yesterday. "We're gonna have to get that jacket and shirt off."

He glared up at me. "I can do it myself." I raised my hands, taking a step back as he shrugged out of his jacket, wincing in pain. My shoulder ached as his did.

Jo came back with a bottle of whiskey, handing it to me. I offered her a smile, setting it in front of Dean. "Thanks."

"No problem," Jo said, glancing between Dean and I. "I'm…going to get Megan and preoccupy her while you get the bullet out."

"Alright, I appreciate it."

Seeing Dean struggle with his soaking wet shirt, I rolled my eyes, swatted his hand away and lifted it over his head. He let out a pained grunt, sitting back in the chair. "I said I got it," Dean quipped.

I arched my brow at him, unimpressed. "Says the man who took a round to the shoulder." Opening the first aid kit I took out the essentials; alcohol prep pads, a needle, stitching thread, gauze, and surgical tape. Despite the withering looks I received, he watched me move around in silence. I knew he was still pissed from before, and that was perfectly okay, but considering he was hurt, his space was going to be invaded.

I kicked his legs together, earning an inquisitive look from him, then straddled his lap tearing open an alcohol pad. Needless to say, it threw him into a loop. "I ain't gonna lie, it's gonna sting."

Dean pursed his lips. "Lay it on me." I wiped around the wound, feeling him flinch and hissed in a breath of air. I smirked, dabbing the already bloody pad around it once more, then opened another one to finish up the clean-up. He let out another hiss. "God."

"I haven't even _started_ on diggin' the bullet out, and you're gonna wimp out already?"

"Well, it stings!" he protested, shooting me a glare.

I leaned back in his lap and pooched my lip out in a taunting manner. "Poor baby."

Dean furrowed his brows. "I swear I'll get Jo to do this and not you."

"Go right on ahead, Winchester," I deadpanned. Falling silent, he grunted and turned his head, with a smirk, I resumed my work. I dug a flash light out of the kit and turned it on, sticking the end of it in my mouth, keeping it held on Dean's wound.

"I could hold that," he muttered.

I shook my head at him. "I got it. Get ready." Dean's chest heaved as he took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut. I stuck my finger into his wound, feeling his entire body tense up in pain. With his right hand, he gripped the edge of the table tightly, letting out a pained groan as I dug around in his shoulder. With my free hand, I had a piece of cloth, wiping the blood out of the way. Letting out another groan, I shot him a withering look. "Don't be a baby!"

He squirmed underneath me. "God!"

"A'most." I murmured. "All right," I felt the piece of lead, "got it. Got it." I dropped the bloodstained bullet in a glass of alcohol, hearing a satisfying _plink_ at the bottom. Letting out a heavy sigh of relief, Dean picked up the bottle of whiskey and took more than a few healthy swigs of it.

"God, you're a butcher," he muttered, offering the bottle to me. I took the flashlight out of my mouth, allowing the corner of my lips to tip up into a smirk. I scoffed a little, taking a quick swig of the liquor then handed it back, twisting around to grab the needle and thread.

"You'd rather have to explain it to a doctor?" I asked, biting the end of the thread. "'sides, you're no good helpin' Sam bleedin' to death."

"I guess not," Dean agreed half-heartedly, watching me thread the needle. Being an opportunist, he took a moment to observe my face, or at least, the damage that Sam had done. Judging by the swell of concern and anger in my chest, he was less than thrilled about it. With a cold hand, he ran his fingertips along the cut on my cheek as gently as he could. "He do that to you?"

I shrugged, staying relatively quiet as I started to stitch his wound. He winced. "I'm alright."

"Sam hurt you," he muttered.

"I said I'm alright, Dean," I replied curtly. "It wasn't Sam."

"He threatened to kill Megan," Dean added.

I wouldn't look at him. "And he's possessed, Dean. That's _not_ Sam. He wouldn't hurt me, or Megan."

His right hand cupped my chin, turning my head to look at him so that he was able to fully see the black eyes forming, the dried blood in my nose, the busted lip, and the cut better. His eyes would fall to each wound, mentally kicking himself as he stared at each one. Anger burned in my chest, knowing he had to be livid over this. "Where have you been?"

"Around," I answered, returning my gaze back to his shoulder that I had halfway stitched up. "It's not like you care." I paused, feeling a pang of anger.

"Where?" he bit out.

"Anyplace that wasn't around Bobby, Ellen, or Charlie," I told him. "They would've told you where I was at."

"Sam was missing, and I couldn't get ahold of you." Dean's voice wavered in a low growl.

"Phone's missin'," I replied. "But hey, I found him…" I retorted, catching his glare. "Well, his fist found my face, but that's beside the point."

"Do you realize how lucky you, Jo, and Megan are? You could be dead right now." I rolled my eyes at Dean, ignoring him until he grabbed my wrist. "Abigail. I'm not playing."

"Neither am I," I said through gritted teeth.

"Are you done?" he snapped. I cut the thread, then layered gauze and tape over it. I patted it for good measure, watching his face pale as he let out another pained groan. "Oh, you bitch."

"That's Miss Bitch to you, Winchester," I said as I got off of his lap. I didn't say another word to him as I went to the back room where Jo and Megan were at.

"Did you get him patched up?" Jo asked.

I went over to my duffle bag in search of a shirt. "Yeah, I'm sure you heard him being a whine-bag." Jo snickered with Megan in her arms. "How was she?"

"Fussy."

I paused, gazing at my daughter out of sympathy. "She wants Dean."

"Well, take her to him," she urged. I bit my lip, knowing that was the right thing to do, despite him being an ass. Finding one of Dean's shirts out of my bag, I took her from Jo. The three of us came out from the back room seeing Dean down another sup of liquor.

His eyes fell on Megan, setting the bottle down. A look that I've missed flashed across his face as Megan and I approached him while Jo went to get me and her a beer. His lips tipped up in a loving smile. "Hey, princess."

Megan had her fist in her mouth, grinning from ear to ear as she took it, pointing it to him. "Dah!" she said in the sweetest voice, like a sigh almost. Any form of tension that Dean and I had between us lifted as we stared at each other for a moment, gaping.

Jo stood at the bar grinning from ear to ear. "Oh my god!"

"Did she just-?" Dean asked, raising his brows. "She just—just, said 'dad'." Pride was clearly evident on his face when he slowly got up, taking her in his arms. "Hey, pretty lady." Resting her head on his good shoulder, he pressed his cheek against her head and closed his eyes. "Dad's here."

"Dah," Megan sighed out again. I caught Dean whispering 'I've missed you' before moving over to the bar. I sat on a stool with Jo on the other side, the woman placing a beer in front of me. Jo and I watched the two in silence, however, the tidal wave of emotions radiating from Dean had brought tears to my eyes.

"You've missed him, haven't you?" Jo asked quietly, keeping her eyes on the father-daughter duo.

"I'd be lyin' if I said I didn't," I muttered, turning my gaze to the cold bottle. Picking it up, I brought it to my lips, taking a long pull of the amber liquid. Swallowing, I stared into it, then felt Jo's hand touch my arm.

Her eyes looked pained. "Don't ever let Megan take things for granted, Abigail. God knows I miss my dad," she whispered. "Promise me, alright?"

I held her gaze, nodding. "Of course." I held up my pinky. "Pinky swear."

She smiled. "Pinky swear." All too quickly, the smile vanished. "Abigail…I know demons lie, but…do they ever tell the truth too?" Dean looked to us from where he was standing, the moment between him and Megan was coming to a close.

"Yeah, sometimes, I guess," I answered with a confused expression. "Especially if they know it'll mess with your head." I took another drink. "Why do you ask?"

Her gaze fell. "Nothing. Doesn't matter," she muttered. "So do you have any idea where Sam's headed to next?"

"Well, so far he's been going after the nearest hunter," Dean explained. "So . . . closest one I know lives in South Dakota."

She nodded. "Okay good. Let's go."

"Yeah," Dean said slowly, reaching the bar. "You're not coming."

Jo scoffed, narrowing her eyes. "The hell I'm not. I'm a part of this now."

"I can't say it more plain than this," he said, still holding Megan. "You try to follow me and I'll tie you right back to that post and leave you here." His eyes steeled as he continued. "This is my fight. I'm not getting your blood on my hands. That's just how it's gonna be."

"What about Abigail, then? Isn't this her fight too?"

His eyes fell on me. "I don't know why she hasn't gotten her crap ready yet." I looked to Jo, watching her jerk her chin towards the back room. I didn't waste any time back there. I moved around the room in a whirlwind, breaking down Megan's pack and play, gathered up her toys and clothes, placing them in a duffle bag. I came out with the pack and play in one hand, mine and Megan's duffels slung over my shoulder, and finally her car seat in the other.

Dean's brows rose. "I don't remember you taking all of that."

"It's funny what you don't remember when you're too busy throwin' a shit fit," I muttered, ignoring the pointed glare from Dean as I sat Megan's car seat down in front of him. "Get her buckled up, I'll put this in the car." Dean nodded his head, kneeling down with her. I turned to Jo. "Thank you, Jo."

"No problem," she said. Leaving the bar, I went out to the car Dean had lifted. Rounding the front, I opened the driver's side door, popping the trunk. Putting the two bags and the pack and play back there, I slammed the trunk down just as Dean came out of Jo's bar with Megan. His demeanor changed, seeming on edge since he was more focused on getting to Bobby's.

* * *

An hour into the drive, it began raining. Megan was in the back passed out with a bottle wedged between her and her car seat. Dean took out his cell phone, dialing a number, Bobby's. Holding it against his ear, he snapped it shut. "Dammit, no answer."

I didn't like the sound of that. Sam must've made it, cutting his phone out. My stomach knotted up with worry. Bobby was a tough son of a bitch. Knowing the demon would play some kind of ploy on him, I just hoped Bobby was a step ahead. After all, you can't con a con man.

"So uh, you look good." Dean commented, glancing from the road to me. At his words, I lifted my head from against the window, arching my brow at him.

"If _looking good_ is the equivalent to _you look like hell,_ then…_thanks_," I muttered dryly.

Dean let out scoff. "Oh my god, can't you just take a complement?" he asked, earning a cynical laugh from me.

"Says the one who called me a 'ragin' pillhead' not even two weeks ago," I quipped, sensing a flare of frustration from Dean.

Silence fell between us for a beat. "You know I didn't mean that," he began.

I scoffed, "Oh, but you did, Dean." I stared at him coolly for a long moment. "You're a man of your word, remember? Anythin' you say is gospel," Dean licked his lips before forming a tight line, "and rainbows shoot out your ass." I added, hearing a frustrated breath leave him.

"Where did you stay since you've been gone?"

"Why do I need to explain myself?" I queried. "It's not like you care, Dean," I muttered, feeling a pang of anger. "The whole point of me leavin' was not to be found."

"Of course I care!" Dean turned his head to look at me.

"Coulda fooled me," I quipped, echoing his words from two weeks ago.

Dean fell silent again, turning his eyes to the road. "Sam needs you, Abigail," his voice lowered, "_I_ needed you."

"Yeah, well, _tough_," I retorted, catching the muscle in his jaw tick. "Shoulda thought about that before you wanted to jump to conclusions."

He brought a hand to his face, scrubbing it as he muttered a tossup between _witch_ or _bitch_ under his breath.

I leaned my head against the window again. "Punk." From the lights of the dash illuminating the cab, I could've sworn I caught a whisper of a smirk from him. I took the opportunity to try and get some form of rest before we got to Bobby's, cause Lord knows what we were going to get ourselves into.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

Ten minutes had passed when I realized Abigail had fallen asleep. The light from the dashboard illuminated the car in a greenish glow, casting it on Abigail's sleeping form. Glancing at her, her right arm was tucked under her head with her left draped over her stomach. She'd made herself comfortable in no time, like she hadn't been gone for two weeks. I then glanced into the rearview mirror, looking back to Megan, who was passed out in her seat. I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss moments like this; having both Abigail and Megan with me, safe and looked after, because I did. Painstakingly so.

Having both of them gone was hard enough, then Sam disappeared, making the realization that I fucked up all too real. I knew after all this was over, Abigail and Megan would leave again, and I couldn't let her. I just couldn't. Was I being selfish? Hell yes. This was _my_ family, _my_ responsibility. I failed them both.

I glanced at the speedometer, seeing that I was pushing ninety-five. Being on the interstate at night had its perks. Six hours later, I was pulling into Bobby's driveway, my stomach twisting in knots. Abigail looked deeply uncomfortable. "You good?" I inquired.

Despite the troubled expression on her face, she nodded. "Right as rain."

"You know you don't have to go in there."

"I know," she replied simply. "Like you said though, Sam needs me, and I can't do anythin' sittin' out here."

"I'd prefer you to be somewhere else away from him in case things go south. Keep Megan out of it, you know?"

Abigail nodded slowly, glancing from her lap to me. "Dean, I can't help but feel like this is all my fault," she stated.

This didn't settle well. "Abs, this isn't your fault…"

"How ain't it, Dean?" she snapped facing me. "I leave, and all of a sudden Sam goes missin'? Then winds up _possessed?_ You don't just get possessed, Dean." I glanced down at the space between us. "Sam was vulnerable, and you know it." Studying her, I knew she had to be scared. She was teary-eyed and breathing quickly.

"I think we're all pretty vulnerable," I agreed. "Look, we're going to help him, I can assure you, Abigail," I promised. "He's going to come out fine, and we're going to be a family again."

"How can you say that after what you told me back in Texas?" she whispered.

"I'll make it up to you guys," I said. "But that's gonna have to wait. I need you to have a level head. Can you do that for me?" I watched Abigail bite her lip, hesitating. After a short moment, she nodded. I leaned over in the seat, brushing her hair out of her face, and kissed her forehead gently. "Good."

Getting out, Abigail held Megan close to her while I took the lead up to Bobby's front door. On the second knock, the gruff old man answered the door, looking from me to Abigail, then to Megan. "It's about time you two got here." Abigail stepped forward, wrapping an arm around his neck. Despite Bobby's rough exterior, his expression softened. Abigail was worried to death about him. Returning the quick embrace, Bobby stepped to the side, letting us enter. Already, the atmosphere changed drastically.

"Sam?" I questioned, seeing him glance to Abigail and the baby before wordlessly leading us through his house. Abigail had went to the kitchen, keeping Megan away from everything, leaving Bobby and I in the living room. Before us, Sam sat tied to a chair.

Time to get this party started.

"Hey," I slapped Sam across the face, hearing him groan and shake his head, looking up. I glanced up, seeing the Devil's Trap.

"Dean. Back from the dead," he commented snidely with a smug grin. "Getting to be a regular thing for you, isn't it? Like a cockroach."

"How about I smack that smartass right out of your mouth?" I suggested.

Sam grinned. "Oh, careful, now. Wouldn't want to bruise this fine packaging."

"Oh don't worry, this isn't gonna hurt Sam much," I turned to pick up a bucket. "You, on the other hand…" I tossed the bucketful of holy water on him, watching as he sizzled and roared. "Feel like talking now?"

"Sam's still my meat puppet. I'll make him bite off his tongue."

I stared at him calmly. I wasn't about to let this fucker know how much it's threat alarmed me. "No, you won't be in him long enough," I told him, never leaving his face. "Bobby," I prompted the man, who began reading in Latin. "See, whatever bitch-boy master plan you demons are cooking up? You're not getting Sam, or Abigail, or Megan. You understand me? 'Cause I'm gonna kill every one of you first." Suddenly, the thing inside Sam started to struggle in pain, then started to laugh loudly.

Bobby cut off, nothing short of being surprised.

"You really think that's what this is about? The master plan?" The demon panted as it spoke. "I don't give a rat's ass about the master plan." I glanced at Bobby, who continued. "Oops. Doesn't seem to be working, at least, not for you and your little angel. See, I learned a few new tricks." He ducked his head, growling out a few lines in Latin. The fire behind him flared up as the room grew dark, beginning to shake.

"This isn't going like I pictured! What's going on, Bobby?" I demanded.

"It's a binding link!" Bobby shouted over the demon's words. "It's like a lock! He's locked himself inside Sam's body!"

"What the hell do we do?" I asked, glancing as papers flew around our heads.

"I don't know!" Bobby shouted. Abigail came running into the room, wide eyed.

"Abs, get back in there!" I demanded, stilling when the demon threw his head back and let out a scream; the shaking walls and ceilings around us began to crack, breaking the Devil's Trap. Sam stared back at us with coal-black eyes as he lowered his head.

"There." Sam cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders as if he were getting comfortable, "That's better." He jerked his head to the left sending Bobby flying. Jerking his head to the right, I felt the ground leave from under my feet, landing heavily against the far wall. Abigail was launched to the wall adjacent to mine, letting out a pained gasp as blood began to seep from her hairline.

Sam ripped free from the restraints, standing up. "You know when people want to describe the worst possible thing…they say it's like hell." Sam knelt in front of me, grabbing a fistful of my shirt, his right hand slamming into my jaw. From behind, Abigail slowly rose to her feet. "I'll get to you in a minute, angel," Sam promised, his voice sweet like sugar, then raised his free hand, launching her against a bookshelf where she slumped over, dazed from the impact. Megan began crying shortly after in the kitchen. I grabbed on Sam's shirt with my right hand, not exactly sure what was going to happen next.

"Now, where was I? Oh right," Sam clocked me again. "You know there's a reason for that. Hell is like, um ..." and again, "Well, it's like hell. Even for demons." Another punch. Past the haze of each hit, I could feel blood pouring down my face. "It's a prison, made of bone and flesh and blood and fear." Sam clocked me once again, then held my head steady. "And you and your little angel sent me back there."

All of this finally clicked. "Meg."

Sam stared at me. "No. Not anymore. Now I'm Sam." He hit me another time, digging his thumb into the bullet wound on my shoulder. Pain slammed into me. "By the way. I saw your Dad there –he says 'howdy." His thumb dug in further as I tried to pull his hand away, groaning in pain. Something behind him caught my eye—it was Abigail. My heart sunk.

She picked up a chair, slamming across the back of Sam's head. "If you got beef, you do it with me, you son of a bitch!" The chair broke into several pieces, causing Sam let go of my shoulder.

"I'll get back to you, pretty boy," he promised, letting me slump against the wall as he straightened up and faced Abigail, who was the first to get a hit in.

I struggled to get up, remaining fixed against the wall. I couldn't move. "Abs!" I watched Sam slam Abigail into the floor as a loud gasp escaped from her. "Meg! Leave her alone!"

My words fell on deaf ears when Abigail was able to get another punch in before Sam had pinned her arms down with his knees. Her legs kicked out furiously as his fist pulled back, slamming it into her face. "You see, Dean? All that I had to hold onto, was that I would climb out one day, and that I was going to torture you." My chest heaved with anger as Sam punched her again. "Nice and slow—like pulling the wings off an insect."

"Stop!" I grated out.

"But whatever I do to you…" I watched in silent horror as blood gushed from her nose and mouth. She was beginning to choke on her own blood as Sam continued, smug as ever. "It's nothing compared to what you do to yourself, is it?" I couldn't breathe. "I can see it in your eyes, Dean. You're worthless." Sam ceased punching. "You couldn't save your Dad, and deep down ... you know that you can't save your brother, your girlfriend, or your daughter." Instead, his hands enveloping her throat. "They'd have been better off without you."

Abigail gripped ahold of Sam's hands, trying her best to breathe. I couldn't even help her! "Meg! Please!" I couldn't believe what I just said.

Sam tilted his head. "Please? Oh, this is new! Is the great and powerful Dean Winchester begging?" His hands remained fixed on her throat, Abigail writhing underneath him, fighting every moment she had. "Let me think about it for a moment…" He turned to look down at Abigail. "Should I let you go; let you _live_? After sending me back to hell?" He shook his head. "Uh-uh. Say goodnight, little angel."

Rage coursed through me. "Meg! So help me _God,_ I get loose—!"

"What are you going to do, Dean? Kill me? Hunt me down?" He grinned. "Not a chance. I'm not done with you." All of a sudden, Abigail let go of his hands. Sam remained on top of Abigail for a moment longer, laughing as his hands came off of her throat. Abigail's face was covered in blood. Her eyes were wide and empty as her mouth gaped like a fish out of water. I stared numbly at her chest, praying she was breathing. Her fingers twitched, and I looked away.

_This wasn't happening_.

I shook my head slowly. "No. Abs, no." Megan's screams continued. All at once, Sam let out a scream. I forced myself to look up, seeing Bobby grab a hold of his arm, pressing a hot poker against the mark. Another screamed escaped, followed by the black smoke billowing out of him and up the chimney. Whatever force was holding me lifted, and I pulled myself up painfully as Sam fell backwards. Coming to, he looked around in confusion, then grabbed his arm.

"Sammy?" I asked warily.

"Did I miss anything?" I reared back, slamming my fist into his cheek. He let out a pained yelp, grabbing his cheek in confusion. "Why is Megan crying?" I glanced to the kitchen. Megan wasn't crying, she was screaming, terrified. "Dean…" I looked back to Sam, his face had gone pale, tears in his eyes. "Is…is that—? Oh my God…I didn't….Is—is she—?"

I turned back around. Abigail remained on the floor, covered in blood, motionless. "_Abs_?" No response. "Abigail?"

"Dean, is she going to be okay?" I heard Sam stammer. "I wouldn't..."

"Bobby, get Megan," I ordered, glancing back to Bobby, who nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. Megan's wails intensified. I dropped to my knees beside Abigail. Her eyes remained opened, staring ahead in an empty gaze. I shook her. "Abs? You there?" Nothing. My heart hammered against my chest as I placed my fingers on the side of her neck, trying to find a pulse: nothing. "This isn't happening…" I muttered. "_Abs_!"

"Dean, what happened?" I heard Sam.

I ignored him, patting the side of Abigail's face, trying to get some kind of response. She never blinked, never made a move. "C'mon, Abs." I shrugged my shirt off, wiping away the blood that was smeared across her face, "Don't you die on me…" I pressed my hands against her chest, beginning CPR. After the initial set compressions, I tilted her head back, pinched her nose, and covered her mouth with mine; breathing into her. As I did, I kept an eye on her chest: nothing. I started back over, beginning with the thirty compressions.

My chest heaved with every effort. "Damn it, Abigail, don't you die on me!" I tilted her head back again and breathed, seeing her chest rise both times I forced air into her. Good. "You're not gonna leave like this, you can't," I ground out, pushing out another round of compressions.

_This isn't happening_. I blinked back tears. _This isn't happening._ Behind me, I heard Megan's screams, causing me to look over my shoulder. "It's okay, princess!" I panted out. "Mom's just sleeping." My voice wavered. "Dad's trying to wake her up." I added so that way she could hear my voice.

"Dean," I heard Sam say, sounding devastated. "Dean, let me..."

"Get the fuck away from her!" I shouted as I was pushing down hard on her chest. After that set, I checked for a pulse and a sign of breathing: still nothing. "Come on, Abigail!" I urged through gritted teeth as tears slid down my face. I wiped them off on the back of my arm. "Breathe, damn you!"

I didn't care if this was going to turn into some sappy moment from _The Abyss_, but something had to give! By now, I was more desperate than anything. I didn't feel my hand curling up into a fist. The next thing I knew, I pounded her chest. "Don't you dare give up on me!" I shouted, suddenly feeling a pair of arms grab a hold of me behind.

"She's gone, Dean," Bobby's voice came from behind as he pulled me away. I let out a painful yell, breaking away from him the moment those words came out of his mouth.

"She's not gone, Bobby!" I snapped, pounding her chest, nothing. After several tries, nothing worked. Exhausted wasn't even the word for how I felt. I leaned back, staring down at her lifeless form numbly. It was finally beginning to sink in. She was gone, and this was my fault. Every bit of it.

"You can't, Abs…you just can't. What happened back in Texas—God." I squeezed my eyes shut. The only thing that I could think of was the fight Abigail and I had. I didn't care how much I had hurt her at the time. I didn't even think twice about it.

* * *

"_Mind tellin' me what the hell this was doin' in your bag, Abs?" I asked, holding up an empty prescription bottle. Abigail's face blanched, setting Megan down in her pack and play, turning towards me, eyes fixated on the bottle._

"_Dean…" she began in a small voice. "It's not what you think."_

_I narrowed my eyes at her. "Then enlighten me, Abigail. Why is there an empty pill bottle in your bag?"_

_Abigail dropped her gaze to the floor. "I don't know…" _

"_You don't—you don't know?" I scoffed. "Why doesn't that surprise me? After all that we've been through?"_

"_Dean—" She began, until I cut her off._

"_Shut up," I snapped. "I don't want to hear your excuses. I've got enough on my plate, and you gotta lay this one down on me? I thought you were done with the pills!"_

"_I am, Dean!" Abigail said, raising her voice._

"_You know what? Fuck it," I barked. "You're never going to change, Abigail!_ _You don't care about Megan, or Sam! Hell, even me!"_

"_Dean, please, let me explain_," _Abigail's voice broke, approaching me, touching my arm. "I do care about you!"_

"_Yeah, well, coulda fooled me." I jerked away from her. "Just… get the hell out of here, and don't come back. I don't need to babysit a raging pillhead."Abigail stared back at me, wounded. Saying sorry wasn't in my vocabulary. I wanted her gone. "Go!"_

_She took a deep breath, slowly nodding her head. "Fine," she said, "but Megan's goin' with me."_

_I didn't even try to stop her._

* * *

I felt a hand on my shoulder. "C'mon, get Megan calmed down." It was Bobby. "Sam and I will build her a nice pyre, and clean her up." I remained fixated on Abigail's body. "You did all you could."

Abigail's chest rose. I furrowed my brows, hardly believing what I was seeing.

"Dean," Sam started off with a teary apology. "I'm so..." I waved my hand to silence him as I leaned over her, pressing my ear against her chest. I got a heartbeat, it was weak, but it was something.

I touched her face. "Abs, c'mon. I know you're still in there." With each passing moment, her chest had risen and fallen more and more, becoming more pronounced until a loud gasp escaped her. I fell back on my ass, and in one movement, she turned over onto her side and let out a series of loud, hoarse coughs; blood and spit covering her lips. Bringing her arms and legs close to her as she coughed until she puked.

In a split second, Bobby and Sam were in motion, looking for towels and whatnot. I scooped her up in my arms, wincing at my shoulder as I did so. Abigail trembled, her hands clutching onto my arm, as she sobbed. "Hey, hey, hey, whoa. Easy." I pushed her hair out of her face. "You're okay, Abs," I told her, stroking her hair. "Just breathe slowly. Nice and slow, alright?" I said, not really caring if my voice was breaking. I felt more tears slide down as I looked skyward, muttering a series of silent 'thank you's' before I held her head against me.

"Megan," she sobbed out. "She's not…?"

I shook my head. "No, she's fine, Abs," I told her, stroking her face gently as she buried her head against my chest, trembling with each sob. "She's fine…"

Sam sat behind Bobby's table with an icepack on his arm. I sat on the other side, holding an ice bag to my face, while the both of us watched Bobby clean Abigail up. The first aid kit laid opened with different things strewn out, along with a pile of blood soaked cloths, _just from_ cleaning up her face. Her hair was up in a ponytail, her head tipped forward as Bobby wiped away the majority of the blood to reveal a cut in her hairline.

"It doesn't look like it needs stitches, any kind of head wound is going to bleed more than anything else," I heard Bobby murmur. "Of course, you knew that."

Abigail struggled to swallow, holding her bloodied hand against her throat. "Yeah. When you got two knuckleheads to look after, you get pretty familiar with them." Her eyes flitted to Sam and me, cracking a weary smile.

I smiled back at her, mirroring the expression. Bobby patted her shoulder, then offered her an icepack. Obliging the offer, she set the icepack down on the table and leaned forward, pressing her face against it, and mumbling a string of incoherent words; to which, Sam, Bobby, and I only exchanged a series of confused looks.

"What?" I asked, watching her let out a heavy sigh.

"I _said_, this feels so good on my face," she repeated, louder this time, but didn't bother to sit back up.

"By the way, you really look like crap, guys," Sam added cautiously.

Abigail lifted her head a little ways, glancing to me, then to him with a fixed look. "Pot, this is kettle, you're black." Sam huffed a small laugh, looking over to me as she laid her head back down.

"Right back atcha," I grimaced, placing the icepack back onto my face.

"How's the shoulder?" Abigail asked me.

I shrugged my good shoulder. Truthfully, Meg completely destroyed the stitching and bandage altogether. "It's fine," I said smoothly, moving the icepack to another part of my face.

Not moving her head, she pointed at me. "Bull."

I pursed my lips at her when she slowly rose up in her seat, motioning for me to come to her. "Abs, I'm fine," I slurred out.

"Now, Winchester," she demanded in a hoarse tone, earning a couple of snickers from Sam and Bobby.

I frowned at her. "You've been through enough, you don't gotta waste your time on my shoulder."

"Yeah, I kinda do," she quipped. "You want to get some kind of infection to set up?"

I groaned, "No."

"Then get your perky ass over here."

"Yeah, you're fine," I jested, rolling my eyes at her. I grabbed the chair I was sitting in and drug it over next to her. From there, I took my shirt off, wincing from my shoulder as she peeled the gauze bandage away a hair.

She looked at it with furrowed brows. "I did so good with the stitches this time."

"Better luck next time?" I suggested, only to be swatted on the leg, and chuckled. Bobby came from the refrigerator, setting down three beers. Abigail took a pair of tweezers, pulling out the busted stitches, then picked up an alcohol pad. I wasn't looking forward to it. Tearing the pack open with her teeth, I hissed in a breath, earning a dark look from her. "I can't help it!"

"Baby…" she muttered as she began to smile while cleaning off the blood. Abigail made short work of my shoulder, not even bothering with the stitches, since I have a tendency to pop them—her words, not mine.

Bobby lowered himself into a chair, looking concerned.

"What is it, Bobby?" Sam asked, earning an inquisitive look from Abigail.

"You three ever hear of a hunter named Steve Wandell?" he questioned.

Unlike Abigail, who just looked lost, Sam and I exchanged a look. I cleared my throat. "Why do you ask?"

"Just heard from a friend," he began. "Wandell's dead. Murdered in his own house." Abigail's brows rose, gazing over to me and Sam for an explanation. "You wouldn't know anything about that."

I shook my head. "No sir, never heard of the guy."

"Dean –" Sam stared.

"Good. Keep it that way." Bobby looked between Sam and I. "Wandell's buddies are looking for someone or something to string up, and they're not going to slow down to listen to reason. You understand what I'm saying?"

I slowly rose to my feet. "We better hit the road. If, uh, you can remember where we parked the car." Sam rose to his feet as well, still holding onto the icepack against his arm, while Abigail was last to get to her feet, absent of the icepack, getting Megan ready. Coming back into the room with he baby in her car seat, I took Megan; receiving a confused look from Abigail, only to nod in understanding.

"Here. Take these," Bobby said, handing each of us a small metal charm.

Abigail looked at hers in confusion. "What are they?"

"Charms." Bobby replied. "They'll fend off possession. That demon's still out there. This'll stop it from getting back up in ya."

"That sounds vaguely dirty, but uh, thanks," I said.

"You're welcome." He grinned at us. "You three be careful now—especially with that baby."

"We will," Abigail said, flashing a weary smile to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, then moved out the door. Sam followed suit, then finally me. At the door, I tossed the ice bag back to Bobby. Back behind the wheel of my car, everything felt…right. Sam was brooding in the passenger seat while Megan was snoozing away in her car seat. Abigail was snugly between the both of us, resting her head against my shoulder.

I glanced over to Sam in concern. "You okay? Sam? Is that you in there?"

"I was awake for some of it…" Sam replied. Abigail sat up slowly, gazing over to Sam with a frown. "I watched myself kill Wandell with my own two hands; I saw the light go out in his eyes."

"That must have been awful," Abigail murmured, taking his hand in hers for reassurance.

"That's not my point." Sam's eyes were filled with tears. "I almost carved up Jo, and almost killed you, Abigail…" Abigail fell silent, her hand remaining on Sam's. He turned his head to look at me. "But no matter what I did, you wouldn't shoot, Dean."

"It was the right move, Sam. It wasn't you," I replied, glancing from him to road.

"Yeah, this time. What about next time?" he questioned.

"Sam, when Dad told me ... that I might have to kill you, it was only if I couldn't save you. Now, if it's the last thing I do I'm gonna save you—_we're_ going to save you," I added, looking over to Abigail.

"You can guarantee it, Sammy," she said, smiling at him.

I started to laugh.

"What?" Sam asked.

I shook my head. "Nothing." Abigail held a smug expression.

"Dean, what?"

"Dude, you –you like, full-on had a girl inside you for like a whole week." I laughed more, followed by Abigail hiding her face in my shoulder as she strained to laugh. Sam's frown cracked as he started to chuckle. "That's pretty naughty," I added, feeling Abigail wrap her arm around my waist.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

"Hey, we're here." Dean kissed my forehead gently, waking me up. "Sam's getting us room," he added. In a sleepy daze, I lifted my head seeing that we were parked out in front of a motel. Sliding out of the car on Dean's side, I leaned against it, quietly enduring a round of pain. My chest and face were throbbing. "You okay?"

I looked over to Dean, assessing his concerned expression, smiling at him in reassurance. "Yeah, just sore."

His eyes glimmered with worry. "You sure you don't need to go to a doctor?"

"I'm fine," I told him, reaching out to take his hand in mine, squeezing it. "Just ready to take a shower and pass out."

He chuckled, pulling me against him. "I second that."

I hummed, leaning my head against his good shoulder for a moment, then heard Sam approach us.

"Room one-o-two," he informed us, holding two sets of keys. Sam and I grabbed our bags from the trunk; whether it was the pack and play or one of our duffel bags, while Dean got Megan from the back. All three of us were exhausted beyond words, settling into our room in no time. Dean was already making his mark by sprawling out in the bed, boots still on with Megan on his stomach. Sam was sitting on his bed, watching his brother and niece until I walked past him, ruffling his hair with a small smile. He returned the gesture by smiling back, lowering his head.

I grabbed one of Dean's shirts from his duffel, followed by one of my pairs of shorts before heading into the bathroom. Twisting the knobs to the shower, I slipped out of my jeans and underwear, then pried my shirt off—it was ruined from the amount of blood dried on it. I just tossed it into the trash bin. Removing my bra, I was able to see the damage caused from the last two days; a uniform bruise was beginning to form across my chest and ribs, a set of bruises forming around my neck, the left side of my face had swelled pretty significantly—not to mention the two black eyes—and two cuts, one in my hairline and another on my cheek. I already determined that I wasn't going to be seen for at least a month, or at least, until my bruises were no longer showing.

Taking my hair out of the ponytail, I stepped into the shower, hissing at the heat of the water. I forced myself to stand under it until it became tolerable, and let me tell you, it felt so good. Below me, what blood that was left on me came off, disappearing into the drain in small, dark red trails. My body alone craved the feeling of heat as the water cascaded down my back.

Tipping my head back, I let water rush through my hair, letting out a small sound as I ran my nails through. I heard a soft knock on the door. "You okay?" I heard Dean ask from the other side.

"Y—" I grimaced, holding my hand against my throat. "Yeah," I replied, hearing the door open and close, followed by a grunt as he sat down on the toilet. I pulled the curtain back to see Dean leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Is Megan already passed out?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah, she's wide awake. Let Sam watch her." I raised my brows. "I know, I know, _shocker,_" he said dryly, taking off his boots.

"No," I replied simply. "Just surprised."

His gaze fixed on mine. "Why?"

"I just figured you'd be all…" I shrugged, failing to find the word. "I dunno, anti-alone time."

Dean shrugged, standing up to pull his shirt off, then finally his pants. "I just know that wasn't Sam back there. _Our_ Sam wouldn't hurt anyone—especially you and Megan. Move over," I stepped to the side, allowing him to step into the shower with me, wincing at the heat. "Jesus, how hot you got this thing?"

I shrugged. "I dunno, but it felt good." He turned back around, stilling as he saw the bruising. I felt my chest squeeze painfully out of guilt. Dean's pained expression only said so much as his eyes went from the bruising on my chest, to the handprints on my neck, then to my battered face.

"Abs…" he reached out, running his fingertips across my skin, "I'm so sorry."

"CPR?" I asked, watching him nod slowly. I took his hand in mine, kissing his knuckles gently. "Must've been pretty bad then."

Dean put his hand against the side of my face. "You have no idea, Abs." I leaned into his touch, holding his hand in mine once again. His grim expression remained. "I thought I lost you."

I pressed my lips in a thin line. "But you didn't."

A whisper of a smile appeared as he ran his thumb against my cheek. "You got me there."

"So…"

Dean's brows furrowed for a second, confused. "_So_?"

I smirked. "You gonna kiss me or not?"

"Now, why would I do that?" he asked teasingly.

I let go of his hand, patting his good shoulder with a mischievous grin. "I could always go ask Sam for one." A flair of jealousy pooled in my stomach, causing me to grin wider.

Dean's brows rose at that. "You wouldn't." I moved the shower curtain out of my way to step out, except, I didn't get far. His calloused hand found mine, pulling me back towards him; his lips capturing mine in a gentle kiss. Thousands of butterflies flew around in my stomach, doing loop-de-loops and aerobatics with just that one, gentle kiss. Moving my lips against his, Dean's arms snaked around my waist, pulling me against his chest. I managed to capture Dean's bottom lip, nibbling and sucking as lightly as I could, eliciting a groan from him to which, I pulled back a hair.

His eyes glittered with need. Not the kind of need that can be summed up as a screen door in the middle of a hurricane. No. It was much simpler, more intimate than that. It was needing to be loved and reassured. I held his face between my hands tenderly, gazing into his eyes. "I've missed you," I murmured to him before I pressed my lips against his in a soft peck. "I've missed you so much."

My heart soared just as his did, if not higher, "I've missed you too, Abs," he replied, his voice barely a whisper against my lips. "God knows how much." His hands moved from my hips to my face, pushing the mop that was my hair. "The moment you walked out of that motel room, I knew you weren't coming back."

"Dean." I kissed him gently. "These last two weeks have made me realize a lot of things about us…" I felt a sliver of fear knot my stomach. "Yeah, you're about one of the most hard-headed men I've ever met, but you mean well. You got some anger issues, but so do I."

"Understatement," he scoffed. "What? You do."

"Name one time," I challenged him.

"You got blitzed the week Sam left for college and threw a bottle at my head," I shrugged.

"I was emotionally compromised, that doesn't count!" I quipped.

Dean chuckled, amused at my response. "Okay, Spock. Beside the point, what else have you realized?"

"That no matter how much we hurt each other, we always come back…" Dean's amused expression vanished while I blinked a few times due to tears welling up. "Our fight back in Texas? That's just another one down in the books. There's gonna be a lot more." I stroked the side of his face tenderly. "I know you're gonna try and apologize…you don't have to." I licked my lips. "I already forgave you the minute I left."

Dean's lips found mine again, with more urgency, his tongue slipping into my mouth. The pit of my stomach began to grow hot, like a summer bonfire. His hands moved from my face as his arms snaked around my back, fingers digging into my flesh, pulling me against his chest closer. We broke apart, my head falling back as he began to kiss down my neck, in lieu of sinfully torturous nips.

I moaned, running my hands through his hair, tugging it at the roots with each nip. Every time I did, a low rumbling noise would come from him. That was one of his unrequited pleasures; small, intimate touches. The longer the shower ran, the longer he would kiss and nibble, tasting a different part of me every time. The heat from it only sent the ascent higher and higher, eliciting small, mewling sounds of want and pleasure from my lips.

"I don't deserve you," I heard Dean murmur against my throat.

I let out a small sigh, cradling him against my chest. "Well, I guess I can say, too late. You got me." Dean paused, gazing at me with an unimpressed expression. I lifted my brows in a nonchalant look, then shrugged. "What? It's true. I'm here."

Dean nodded. "That you are." He pressed his lips against mine, kissing me slowly while he suckled on my bottom lip. Once more, his tongue glided into my mouth, caressing the roof of my mouth, my tongue; as he tasted me once again; familiarizing himself. Breaking away from the kiss, Dean moved to the tops of each of breasts, kissing them while one of his hands kneaded the other. His tongue moved over the stiff bud, tracing circles and odd shaped around it, sending fire through my veins. He suckled at each one, biting down lightly, eliciting a sound that could easily set his blood on fire.

And it did.

In no time, Dean had pressed my back against the wall of the shower, pressing his hips against mine; his member against my leg, bobbing in a taunting manner. Despite the whimpering sound coming from me, his right hand slid between my leg, cupping my wet core. I didn't care what he was focusing on. I moved his head from my chest, directing his lips back onto mine while his right hand was exploring between my folds. His fingers traced each one with preciseness, it left me pressing myself against him like some desperate vagrant searching for water.

Two fingers began to run over my entrance more eagerly, before he finally slid them inside, a pitiful, trembling sound escaped from my lips as they went deep; rubbing and caressing each wall in a delicate manner. Dean's body shifted against mine, finding another way to hold himself off while pleasuring me until my right hand slid down between his legs, grasping his cock tightly.

Dean let out a harsh breath, nothing like the ragged, pained sound he'd made earlier over his shoulder. This was more primal, like a deep rooted growl. With each agonizingly sweet caress of his fingers within me, my stomach knotted with the sensation of fire. The both of us pressed against each other's bodies. Around the time my release came, his fingers left, finding their way to my mouth where I obligingly suckled on them while he sank his teeth onto my shoulder.

Along his length, I caressed it in one, smooth motion, allowing him to buck his hips against my legs, digging his fingers into my back as he groaned. It didn't bother him one bit to be loud. He didn't care if the person in the room next to us heard him, much less Sam, because it wasn't the first time. And if I didn't know better, I think it amused Dean to some extent to know that he could disturb Sam as bad as he does during our 'downtime' activities.

Dean let out another groan, slamming his lips against mine while I moved my hand along his hard cock. My stomach, by now, was doing flip flops in anticipation after he moved my hand off of him, hitched my leg around his waist, and guided his length to my entrance. In this moment, I felt alive. For the most part, I haven't felt like this in the past two weeks, if honestly felt like heaven. My back thudded against the side of the wall with each thrust, Dean letting out short, heavy breaths as he broke away from my lips and nuzzled his face against my neck.

"Two weeks have been too long," I forced out, hearing an incoherent mutter against my skin in agreement from him.

"—missed this," I could catch, before he rammed into me harder and faster, each time seeming to become rougher. By the time we had reached our release, we were borderline shouting our names or cursing them. Against me, Dean pressed his forehead against mine, gazing at me through half-lidded eyes. He lazily kissed my neck, jawline, and lips before the both of us had calmed down.

The shared shower didn't last long after that. The both of us had thrown our clothes on, exited the room, only to receive the stink eye from Sam, who, begrudgingly handed us back Megan and rolled over in his bed, forcing himself to go to sleep. Which was perfectly okay. Megan didn't stay awake long either, for the good lord above, she went back to sleep, allowing Dean and I to drag our asses to bed before the sun had a chance to rise above the horizon.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! So glad I got this chapter out in a relatively timely manner! _Born Under A Bad Sign_ had been a chapter I truly looked forward to! The next chapter, _Tall Tales_ is going to be an interesting one, to which, I believe our boys will be taking on alone. I'm so glad that every single one of you enjoy _Strike Back_ and I can't appreciate that enough. I truly put my heart and soul into this story.**

**Being manic depressive is extremely tough to go through and deal with on a daily basis, and it honestly makes it hard for me to express myself. Writing _Bad Company_ and _Strike Back _are some great feats for me, and to have a following of people who truly enjoy it as a story, brings tears to my eyes. I couldn't have done it without every. single. one of you!**

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**I'd like to give credit, where credit is due. First and foremost, the _Supernatural _franchise. Without this show, this couldn't be made possible. Secondly, I want to give credit to my lovely friend, _Ladysunshine6_ who has been more than just a friend to me; she's an amazing person and so helpful. While I was on break, she always asked if I was okay or asked how the newest chapter was coming along. For that, I'm forever grateful to know her. Lastly, I want to thank _SkyQueen1111_ for being my beta reader. I can't thank you enough for being a reader _and_ a beta reader! You and _Ladysunshine6_ mean a lot to me!**

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**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me or you can get a hold of me via Tumblr! I love receiving fan-mail for all three!**

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**Song for this Chapter: _How to Save a Life_ by The Fray (I must've listened to this song a thousand times, and cried each time I did).**

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**Ladysunshine6- Thank you so much! I thought that was a great chapter, despite the fact it has taken me so long! Again, thank you for being a wonderful person and friend!**

**grapejuice101- I know the feeling! It was a huge weight lifted off my shoulders to get the chapter out! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!**

**zikashigaku- Glad you loved the chapter! You're right! There are _so many_ theories relating to this subject! I always loved the song, and since the chapter was angel-centric, that song just stuck! ;)**

**angelicedg- Thank you! It's awesome being back! Ugh, I know! I have so many plans for Sam that takes place later in the series, I just hope I get to it! I know once I get to _Heart_, my own is going to break.**

**Awerry- Thank you so much! I'm so glad you enjoy the story! You're words are too kind, and they mean so much to me! Again, thank you!**

**Love. Fiction. 2016- Long time, indeed! Glad to be back in the cycle! Thank you!**

**SPARKLES77- Awe, thanks love! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! (:**


	20. Tall Tales

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Hotel Room—Day**_

_**Springfield, Ohio**_

"Dude. You mind not eating those on _my_ bed?" Sam questioned.

I shook my head. "No, I don't mind," I replied nonchalantly, popping another fry in my mouth. "How's research going?"

Sam stared at me in a deadpan. "You know how it's going?" he asked rhetorically. "Slow," he answered. "You know how it would go a heck of a lot faster? If I had my computer."

_Blah, blah, blah_…I mused in my head, nodding to Sam. I think I heard every third word. Or was it fourth?

"Can you turn that down please?" Sam snapped.

"Yeah, absolutely," I replied, turning the music up louder.

"You know what? Maybe you should just go somewhere for a while."

I shut off the radio and looked up to Sam. "Hey, I'd love to. That's a great idea," I replied with sarcasm in my voice. "Unfortunately, my car's all screwed to hell."

"Dean, I told you, I have nothing to do wi—" Sam began, getting cut off by a loud knock on the door. _Thank God_. Another minute of his bitching, I swear I would be brother-less. Sam stood, moving to the door; looking through the peephole, then back to me with a confused expression before he opened the door. "Hey, Bobby."

"Boys," Bobby greeted, entering the room with his hands in his pockets.

I stood up, approaching him. "Hey, Bobby."

"It's good to see you again so soon," Bobby told us, uncertainty wavered in his voice.

"Yeah, uh, thanks for coming." Sam led him into the room. "Come on in."

"Thank god you're here," I said, shaking his hand, and lowered my voice. "Abs and Megan didn't ride with you?"

Bobby raised a brow. "She would've, but since…" His sentence faltered, and I knew instantly what he meant. "She thought it would be better to stay behind and rest up." I nodded, glancing to Sam, who already seemed pretty annoyed. Bobby then cleared his throat. "So um, what _didn't_ you want to talk to me on the phone about?"

"It's this job we're working," Sam told him, shooting me a dirty look. "We—we weren't sure you'd believe us."

Bobby let out a scoff. "Well, I can believe a lot."

"Yeah, no, no, it's just, we've never seen anything like it –" Sam continued.

I stepped in. "Not even close."

"And we thought we could use some fresh eyes," Sam added.

"Well, why don't you begin at the beginning?" Bobby replied, turning to the bed as Sam gestured to it. He picked up an empty takeout tray, which somehow got there, looked at it and set it aside, sitting down.

"So, it all started when we caught wind of an obit," Sam continued. "See, a professor took a nosedive from a fourth story window, only there's a campus legend that the building's haunted. So we pretexted as reporters from the local paper."

* * *

_**Flashback**_

_**Sam's Point of View**_

_**Bar—Night**_

_I was sitting at a table opposite to one of the campus jocks and an attractive, yet ditzy girl with brown hair. I sat a voice recorder down in front of me._

"_Yeah, we both had the professor for Ethics and Morality," the jock, Curtis, said._

"_Yeah?" I queried. "So why do you think he did it?"_

"_Who knows?" the girl, Jen, said. "I mean, he was tenured, wife and kids. His book is a really big deal. Then again..." She leaned in conspiratorially. "Who's to say it was suicide?" she added, lowering her voice._

_Curtis scoffed at the thought. "Jen, come on."_

"_Well, what else could it be?" I asked, feigning surprise._

"_Well, you know about Crawford Hall?" Jen asked._

"_No, I don't, actually." I shook my head and leaned toward her._

"_It's a bunch of crap, it's a total urban legend," Curtis said, looking to Jen skeptically. _

"_Yeah well, Heather's mom went to school here, and she knew the girl," Jen said, turning to Curtis with a sour expression._

_I furrowed my brows. "Wait, what girl?"_

_Jen turned back to me. "Thirty years ago, this girl was having an affair with some professor. He broke it off, she jumped out the window and killed herself." _

"_You know her name?" I asked._

_Jen shook her head. "No. But they say she jumped from room six-six-nine." She gazed at me expectantly, like I was supposed to understand where she was getting at. "Get it? You turn the nine upsides down?" I nodded while Curtis laughed, disbelieving what he was hearing. "So now she haunts the building. And anyone who sees her? They don't live to tell the tale."_

"_Well if no one lives to tell the tale, then how does the tale get told?" Curtis asked._

"_Curtis! Shut up!" Jen snapped, and even then, offered me a coy expression. I wasn't there to make friends and take some half-drunk college girl to the motel. I glanced over towards the bar where Dean was at. His back was facing me, although, knowing him, he was playing some drunk girl like a violin. _

_And that was what he was doing. I probably should have been over there to keep something from happening._

"_You know what, uh—thanks a lot, guys." I ended our conversation with a nod. "Excuse me." Making my away across the bar, Dean slammed down three shot glasses in succession. "Dean." I glanced to the purple liquid. "Dean, what are you drinking?"_

_Dean turned to me, belching. "I don't know, man, I think they're called purple nurples?" _

"_Okay, well listen. I think maybe we should go check out the professor's office," I said, more than ready to get out of here._

_Dean shook his head. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no I can't right now, I've got some feisty little wildcat on the hook for you! I'll introduce you." I looked at Dean, incredulously. What has gotten into him? A girl who was sloppy drunk sat two seats down, clad in fishnet stockings and a tight miniskirt laughed._

"_Dean –" I began until he started to call out for her._

"_Starla!" The drunk blonde turned to him. "Starla, hey. This is my shuttle co-pilot, Major Tom. Major Tom, Starla."_

_Starla downed the shot she had in her grasp, setting the empty glass on the bar before she extended her hand, giggling. "Enchanté."_

"_Hi," I greeted her, dryly. What was Dean thinking? _

_All at once, Starla jerked her hand from mine to her mouth when her face twisted into a sour expression, her body convulsed as she made gagging sounds in the back of her throat. "Sorry," she slurred. "Just trying to keep my liquor down!"_

_I wasn't sure if I was mildly horrified at this girl or disgusted. I didn't even want to stick around to find out anything else about her. _

"_Yeah! Good job." I glanced at my brother, who seemed immune to the girl's display, only for him to turn to me again, smacking my arm. "Hey, even better news for you, she's got a sister."_

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Motel—Present Day**_

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on a minute," I interrupted Sam, shaking my head.

"What?" Sam asked innocently. He knew damn well _what_.

"Come on, dude, that's not how it happened," I reiterated.

"No?" he questioned. "So you never drank a purple nurple?"

"Yeah, maybe that," I shrugged, catching Bobby raise his brows, "but I don't say things like 'feisty little wildcat'." _Maybe to Abigail when things are getting steamy, but that was it!_ "And her name wasn't Starla," I added.

Sam folded his arms. "Then what was it?"

"I don't know," I replied. "For the record, I didn't even lay a finger on her! But she was a classy chick. Totally up Sam's alley." Again, Bobby raised his brows as Sam narrowed his. "She was a grad student; anthropology and folklore. We were talking about local ghost stories, Abigail and Megan."

Sam's eyes flew to the ceiling in a condescending manner.

* * *

_**Flashback**_

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Bar—Night**_

_I sat at the bar looking through my cell phone at the various pictures I had on there. Most were of Abigail and Megan sleeping, some of myself and Abigail, some of just Megan, and some not meant for anyone's eyes but mine; if you caught my drift. Tonight, however, those kind of images weren't tickling my fancy. Being a day's drive away from Abigail and Megan didn't sit well with me, especially since the fiasco at Bobby's a couple of weeks prior; leaving Abigail bruised and sore._

_Abigail's picture came across the small screen; her face still cut and bruised, but nonetheless, smiling. I ran a hand through my hair, blowing out an uneasy breath, pressing a button that changed the image. It had reset itself to the first picture I had on the phone which was a photo of Abigail holding Megan outside of the incubator. My chest tightened remembering how fragile Megan had been; how fragile a lot of things were. I flipped the phone shut, then back open as I scrolled through my recent calls searching for Abigail's number. I pressed the phone to my ear as it rung a couple of times, "Hey, you." Abigail greeted._

_I smiled to myself. "Hey, you."_

"_Where you at?" she asked, sounding exhausted._

"_Some bar off campus," I replied, glancing over my shoulder seeing Sam sitting across the bar at a table with two college kids. "Been trying to figure out what's going on."_

_Abigail hummed in the phone. "You mean, sit back and let Sam do it?" I furrowed my brows, looking back around. _

_I leaned on the bar. "You're creepy sometimes, you know that?" The only sound I heard was Abigail letting out a breathy laugh in response. _

"_Yeah, some knucklehead tends to say that a lot," she replied in an amused tone. "You two doin' okay? No, need to strangle each other?"_

"_Nah, not yet," I mused, hearing her laugh softly. "How's princess doing?"_

"_Like her daddy—stubborn," she jested when Megan let out a soft coo. "Doesn't want to sleep, just wants to be held."_

_I chuckled. "Nothin' wrong in that. What about you?" _

"_Sore, but it's nothin I can't handle," she admitted before falling silent, a yawn came across the line shortly after. "Come home to us," she said in a soft voice. _

_I straightened up in my seat, half-tempted on doing so. "Oh, trust me. You know I would in a heartbeat, sweetheart."_

_Abigail yawned again. "I know. I miss you, Winchester."_

"_I miss you girls. As soon as we get done with this job, we'll be back," I promised. _

"_We'll be here," Abigail replied. "Just be careful, alright?" _

"_Always am," I said. "So, uh, what're you wearing?"_

_She let out an amused laugh. "Why? You interested?"_

_I shifted in my seat, licking my lips in interested at the rate this conversation was heading. "You know I am."_

"_You know those little shorts you like?" _

_I grinned, running my fingers along my collar. "Oh yeah."_

"_Well, those and one of your jakey shirts," she purred out, "and I ain't wearin' a bra."_

_I whispered a low prayer of thanks. "Where's Bobby?"_

_Abigail hummed in thought, "He's still out in the garage…" In the background I heard Megan let out a cry, followed by a frustrated sigh. "I gotta get off here, love," Abigail murmured. "It's gonna be a long night for me. Little woman's been like this since…" Sam's possession, I thought. "I love you, Dean."_

"_I love you, Abs…more than anything," I told her, ending our call. A blonde sitting beside me clad in black heels and a sleek black cocktail dress glanced over to me, smiling coyly. I looked her up and down, smirking._

"_Girlfriend?" she asked._

_I nodded. "Yeah."_

"_I'm Starla," the girl introduced, reaching over her occupied hand. "I'm a grad student; anthropology and folklore." _

"_Dean," I replied, shaking her hand._

"_What's her name?" Starla asked. "Your girlfriend."_

"_Abigail," I said. "Just checking in on her and my daughter." I found a recent photo of them, handing my phone over to Starla, who smiled in return._

"_Cute," she handed back my phone. "What's a family man doing here, of all places?"_

"_Ah, you know…business," I told her smoothly. "It's hard having to leave them behind sometimes." Starla nodded in understanding, motioning to the bartender, who sat down a purple liquid in a shot glass. "What's that?"_

_Starla giggled, picking up the liquid and took a swallow. "It's called a purple nurple, whatever that is."_

_I pursed my lips, then nodded. "I'll have what she's having." The bartender across from me nodded, setting down another round of the liquid as the both of us picked them up._

"_Here's to…" _

"_Here's to family," I said, tapping the shot glass against hers and took a swig. "I gotta introduce you to someone I think you'd like, he's—"_

_Sam approached us, jacket swung over his shoulder like some rich guy with an expression that could've passed for constipation. "Dean! What do you think you're doing?" he chided, voice prissy…like Regina George off 'Mean Girls'._

"_Enjoyin' a drink of…purple nurple, whatever that is," I explained calmly, lifting up another shot._

"_Dean, this is a very serious investigation," Sam snapped. "We don't have any time for any of your blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah Blah!" I rolled my eyes, picking up another shot and downed it while Sam continued to bladiblah behind me._

"_Blah!"_

* * *

_**Present**_

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Motel Room—Night**_

"Right! And that's how it really happened." Sarcasm dripped off Sam's voice as I finished my side of the story. "I don't sound like that, Dean!"

I shrugged at him. "That's what you sound like to me."

"Okay," Bobby began, assessing the tension that was in the room. "What's going on with you two?"

"Nothing. No—it's nothing," Sam objected.

"No, come on. You're bickering like an old married couple," Bobby stated, looking between Sam and me.

I rose to my feet, crossing over to the kitchenette. "No, see married couples can get divorced. Me and him, we're like, uh, Siamese twins."

"It's conjoined twins!" Sam corrected me. "Besides, you and Abs act worse!"

I turned back to Bobby with a beer in my hand. "See what I mean?"

"Look, it," Sam let out an exasperated sigh. "We've just been on the road for too long. Tight quarters, all that. Don't worry about it."

"Okay."

"So anyway," he continued. "We figured it might be a haunting, so we went to check out the scene of the crime."

* * *

_**Flashback**_

_**Sam's Point of View**_

_**Crawford Hall—Night**_

"_So, how long've you been working here?" I questioned the janitor as he led us upstairs._

"_I've been mopping this floor for six years," he said turning on a light as Dean and I followed behind him in the professor's office. "There you go, guys." I glanced down to the EMF reader. "What the heck's that for?" I heard him ask, confused. _

_Obviously._

_I glanced up at him, "It's to find a wire in the walls," I replied smoothly._

"_Huh. Wow," he hummed. "Not sure why you're wiring up this office. Not gonna do the professor much good." _

_Dean furrowed his brows. "Why's that?"_

"_He's dead," the janitor told him bluntly._

"_Oh," I heard my brother mutter. "What happened?" he questioned, moving over to the window._

"_He went out that window. Right there," the janitor replied, nonchalantly. _

"_Yeah? Were you working that night?" I questioned._

"_I'm the one who found him." _

_I raised my brows, faux surprised. "You see it happen?"_

"_Nope. I just saw him come up here, and uh ... well…" his sentence fell flat._

"_What?" I pushed._

"_He wasn't alone," he implied, waggling his eyebrows._

"_Oh," I replied, glancing over to Dean, whose cheeks were stuffed with whatever he was eating._

"_Who was he with?" he questioned. The question itself was almost incoherent due to the impossible amount of food in his mouth!_

* * *

_**Present**_

_**Dean's Point of View**_

"Come on!" I argued. "I ate one, maybe two!"

"Just let me tell it, okay?"

* * *

_**Flashback**_

_**Sam's Point of View**_

"_He was with a young lady," the janitor answered, "I told the cops about her, but uh, I guess they never found her."_

"_You saw this girl go in, huh? But did you ever see her come out?" I inquired._

_He fell silent for a moment, thinking. He shook his head. "Now that you mention it, no."_

"_You ever see her before, around?"_

"_Well, not her," came his reply, laying an emphasis on 'her'. _

"_What do you mean?" Dean asked, still squirreling away whatever he was eating. I shot him a glare, while the guy talked._

"_I don't mean to cast aspersions on a dead guy, but uh . . . Mister Morality here? He brought a lot of girls up here." The janitor explained, beginning to open up about the professor, "Got more ass than a toilet seat." Dean cackled, swatting my shoulder in amusement._

"_One more thing. This building, it only has four stories, right?" I asked._

_He nodded in confirmation. "Yeah."_

"_So there wouldn't be a room six-six-nine?" I checked while he nodded again._

"_'Course not. Why do you ask?"_

"_Aw, just curious," I replied. "Thanks."_

"_Well, no traces of EMF, that's for sure," I summed up, walking into the motel room. Lowering myself into a chair at the table while Dean got a beer out of the fridge for the both of us._

"_And the room six-six-nine's a load of crap," Dean added from behind me. _

"_So what do you think?" I shrugged off my jacket. "The professor's just a jumper?" Dean set down a beer in front of me. "A legend's just a legend?"_

"_I don't know," Dean replied, twisting the top off the bottle and tossed it onto the table. "I mean, the uh, girl the janitor described, that's pretty weird." _

_I brought my hand to my face before I picked up the beer in front of me. "Yeah."_

_Dean took a pull of his beer. "We oughta check out the history of the building," he then suggested, setting the bottle down on the counter. "See if any co-ed ganked herself there."_

"_Yeah, you're right," I murmured, opening up my laptop. I furrowed my brows, confused at what was displayed on my screen. "Dude. Were you on my computer?"_

_Dean then emerged from the bathroom, staring at me, confused. "No."_

"_Oh really?" I quipped. "'Cause it's frozen now. On uh, Busty Asian Beauties dot com." I watched several emotions appear on my brother's face as he thought for a moment; frowning, then winced, and finally retreated back into the bathroom. I blew out a heavy breath. "Dean! Would you—just—don't touch my stuff anymore, okay? Besides, I thought you stopped with this-this crap since you're with Abs!"_

"_Why don't you control your O.C.D.?" Dean stepped out of the bathroom. "And what I do with Abigail is none of your business."_

* * *

_**Present Day**_

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Motel Room—Day**_

Bobby turned from the window. "But did you dig up anything about the building? Or on the suicidal co-ed?" he questioned.

Sam shook his head. "No. History's clean."

"Then it's not a haunting," Bobby stated.

"Maybe not," I corrected him. "Tell you the truth, we're not really sure."

Bobby squinted his eyes toward me, confused. "What do you mean, you're not sure?

I raised my hands, searching for some kind of explanation. That fell flat.

"Well ... it's weird," Sam stepped in.

"What's weird?" Bobby questioned, beginning to get aggravated at our roundabout way of answering his questions. Hell, maybe if Abigail would've been here, she'd be able to understand it a little better, or better yet, we could already be done with this case.

"This next part, we uh, we didn't see it happen ourselves exactly," I began, "but it's pretty friggin weird—even for us." I stopped pacing, turning to Bobby. "The guy, uh…claimed to have been abducted by aliens."

"_Aliens_?" Bobby echoed, not quite sure he was hearing me correctly.

"Yeah."

"Aliens?" he questioned again.

I looked back to him as he made another turn, crossing my arms. "Yeah."

"Look, even if they are real, they're sure as hell not coming to earth and swiping people," he deduced logically.

"Hey, believe me, we know," I agreed wholeheartedly. This was pretty messed up.

"My whole life I've never found evidence of an honest-to-God abduction. It's all just cranks and pranks," Bobby told us.

"Yeah, that's what we thought," Sam replied, leaning against the wall, staring out of the window. "But...we figured we'd at least talk to the guy," he continued, pushing himself off and approached us.

* * *

_**Flashback**_

_**Third Person Point of View**_

_**Bar—Night**_

_Curtis fingered one of three full shot glasses lined up in front of him, picking it up and downed it. Dean watched the college student speculatively, or just flat out smug, from where he was seated._

"_Hey, you ought to give those purple nurples a shot," he suggested, shaking his head with an amused grin across his face. Curtis looked over to him, downtrodden to say the least, causing Dean to tilt his head and turn to Sam, who was standing nearby._

"_So, what happened, Curtis?" Sam asked._

_Curtis glanced to Sam, then back to the bar as he made a face and shrugged. "You won't believe me," he muttered. "Nobody does." _

_Sam gazed at Curtis. "Give us a chance," he tried in a gentle tone. _

_Curtis pointed to him, shot glass remaining in his hand as he did so. "I do not want this in the papers." _

"_Off the record, then," Dean promised, earning a quick glance from the college kid. _

_It took him a few moments to speak. Whatever happened to him seemed to have been pretty earth-shattering as he fidgeted with the shot glass, glancing down to the bar and whatnot. "I, uh... I blacked out, and...I lost time, and when I woke up, I don't know where I was."_

_Dean glanced to his brother as he spoke._

"_Then what?" Sam pressed. _

_Curtis' face twisted as he recollected his experiences. "They did tests on me. And, uh..." His chest heaved with a sigh, picking up another shot glass and downed it. "They, uh... They probed me." _

_The expression on Sam's face was priceless. However, in the face of current events, he turned away, struggling not to laugh, which would break his and Dean's cover._

"_They probed you?" Dean asked, blinking in bewilderment. _

"_Yeah, they probed me. Again and a—again and—and again." Curtis took another shot all the while Dean gave his brother a look, in return, Sam pursed his lips, preventing a smile when Curtis turned his attention back to them. "And again and again and again... And then one more time." _

"_Yikes," Dean's deadpan tone caused Sam to cough, avoiding another laugh. _

"_And that's not even the worst of it," Curtis continued, oblivious to Sam. _

"_How could it get any worse?" Dean asked, finding it awfully hilarious. "Some alien made you his bitch." Curtis' glare met Dean's amused smirk. In lieu of the dark look, Dean's smirk vanished, looking to Sam again._

"_They... They made me... Slow dance!" _

_Dean and Sam were both speechless, unable to process what they had just heard._

* * *

_**Present**_

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Motel Room—Day**_

"You guys are exaggerating again, huh?" Bobby didn't exactly phrase that in a question.

"No. no," Sam replied.

"Then this frat boy's just nuts," Bobby stated.

"We're not so sure," I told him, looking up from the floor.

* * *

_**Flashback**_

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Campus—Day**_

_Sam and I were standing over a large, perfectly round scorch mark on the ground, not really believing what we were seeing, or coming to terms with the thought of it being an actual alien abduction._

"_I'm telling you, Dean, this was made by some kind of jet engine," Sam hypothesized._

_I turned towards my brother, hands in my jacket pockets. "You mean some saucer-shaped jet engine?" _

"_What else could it be?" he asked, clearly out of any kind of logical explanations._

_I shook his head, frustrated wouldn't even cover it. "What the hell?"_

"_I don't know." _

"_Seriously, dude—what the hell?" I repeated, growing annoyed by everything that was happening._

_Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, first the haunting. Now this? The timing alone. There's got to be some kind of connection." _

"_You mean between the angry spirit and the sexed-up E.T.? What could the connection possibly be?" I snapped._

"_I. Don't. Know," Sam snapped back. "I swear this would go by much quicker if Abigail had come with us."_

_I worked my jaw oddly. "Yeah, I know, but you and I both know that isn't going to happen for at least a few weeks…or until those bruises on her face clear up."_

_Sam pressed his lips together in a thin line. "I know…"_

"_It isn't your fault," I told him, catching a flicker of guilt cross his face. "C'mon, we need to talk to someone else."_

"_So, you and this guy, Curtis—you were in the same house?" Sam asked a student._

"_Yeah." The response was curt, clearly not wanting to expand the conversation._

"_You heard what happened to him, right?" I asked, mildly surprised at this kid's indifference._

"_Yeah, he says it was aliens, but, you know, whatever," he shrugged. What can I say? The kid had balls. _

"_Look, man, I—I know this all has to be so hard," Sam began, growing emotional. _

_The student furrowed his brows at Sam, growing uncomfortable. "Um, not so much."_

"_But I want you to know... I'm here for you." _

_The kid nodded slowly._

"_You brave little soldier," Sam carried on. "I acknowledge your pain. Come here." Before he could move to leave, Sam grabbed him in a hug. "You're too precious for this world."_

_I had to look away, embarrassed._

* * *

_**Present Day**_

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Motel Room—Day**_

"I never said that!" Sam protested, slightly horrified.

"You're always saying pansy stuff like that!" I defended myself. "Look at Abigail, she's an empath and she's not that emotional!"

Bobby rolled his eyes at us.

* * *

_**Flashback**_

_**Dean's Point of View**_

"_Well, um... Yeah, uh, thanks," the kid said, patting Sam on the back uncomfortably, frowning at us. "Thanks for the hug, but, uh, I'm okay. Really. To tell you the truth, whatever happened to Curtis, he had it coming." _

"_Why is that?" I asked him, frowning._

"_He's our pledge master. Put us through hell this semester, and got off on it. So now he knows how we feel." The kid didn't even seem phased that this happened to his frat brother. If anything, he seemed…vindicated. _

_I patted my still emotional brother on the arm. "It's okay."_

_Returning to the motel room, I shrugged off my jacket. "Still doesn't make a lick of sense. But, hey, at least there's one connection." _

"_Between what?" Sam asked. _

"_The victims," I answered, tossing my jacket down on the bed and ran my hand down my mouth. "The professor and the frat guy," I sat down in a chair. "They're both dicks." _

"_That's a connection?" he questioned. _

"_You got anything better to go on, I'd love to hear it," I suggested. _

_Sam looked in his bag, then looked to me. "Where's my laptop?" _

"_I don't know," I replied as he continued to search for it. "Think about it. A philandering professor gets a dead girl. A pledge master gets hazed." _

"_I left it in here," Sam continued, pointing his hand to the empty bag. _

"_You obviously didn't," I told him, returning to my hypothesis. "I mean, these punishments—they're almost poetic. Actually, it'd be more like a limerick, but still—"_

"_Okay, hilarious. Ha ha." Sam approached me. "Where'd you hide it?" _

"_What, your computer?" I asked, confused. Sam nodded his head angrily. "Why would I take your computer?" _

"_Because no one else could have, Dean! Abigail would, but she's not here. We keep the door locked. We never let any maids in." Sam threw his arms out in annoyance. _

_I chuckled, smirking at my brother. "Looks like you lost it, Poindexter." _

_Sam worked his jaw in an odd manner, shooting daggers with his eyes. "Dude, you know something? I put up with a lot from you." _

_I scoffed. "What are you talking about? I'm a joy to be around." _

"_Yeah? Your dirty socks in the sink, your food in the fridge," he listed off. _

"_What's wrong with my food?" _

"_It's not food anymore, Dean! It's Darwinism," he argued. "I gotta hand it to Abs, man, I really do—she puts up with a lot more." I frowned at that. "However, when she's not around, I'm almost surprised you haven't drowned in your own filth!" I snorted, rolling my eyes at him. He's crazy. I searched for my phone. "All I ask from you, the one thing, is that you don't mess with my stuff!" _

"_You done?" I asked, checking my pockets. _

"_You know, how would you feel if I screwed with the Impala?" he pressed. _

_I paused, looking to my brother calmly. "It'd be the last thing you ever did." I sighed. "I lost myfriggin' phone."_

* * *

_**Present **_

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Motel Room—Day**_

"Did you take his computer?" Bobby pressed.

"Serves him right, but, no," I replied, leaning on the table with a beer in my hand.

Sam splayed his hands out. "Well, I didn't lose it. 'Cause I don't lose things."

"Oh, that's right, yeah, 'cause he's Mr. Perfect," I muttered. "I think he took my phone out of spite," I told Bobby.

Sam scoffed. "I know what's on your phone! There's not enough money on this planet that will make me touch your phone, let alone take it!"

Bobby shook his head. "Okay, okay. Why don't you just tell me what happened next?"

"There was one more victim." I sighed out.

"Right. Now, we, we didn't see this one ourselves, either. We kind of put it together from the evidence. But this guy—he was, uh, he was a research scientist. Animal testing," Sam explained.

"Yeah, you know—a dick. Which fits the pattern," I stated. "Cops didn't release the cause of death 'cause they had no clue what the cause was."

"So, we checked it ourselves."

* * *

_**Flashback**_

_**Sam's Point of View**_

_**Morgue—Night**_

_Climbing through a window in the morgue, I straightened up upon hearing Dean saying "Hey" followed by a flashlight coming toward me. Catching it, Dean followed behind, climbing on through and looked around after closing the window._

_Opening a body drawer, Dean shined his light through it, grimacing. "Well, this oughta be quick." _

_We slid the drawer out, gingerly peeling off the bloody blanket to reveal an extremely mangled remains. Dean turned away in revulsion. "Okay, that is just nasty," he grimaced. _

_I held my hand to my mouth and nose. "Uh, yeah."_

"_Mutilated?"_

"_Looks to me like something was hungry." _

"_They identify him yet?" Dean asked. _

"_Yeah, uh, a research scientist at the college," I answered, looking down at this poor bastard. "Guess where his office was, by the way." I leaned in closer to look at the dismembered body parts. "Crawford Hall, same as the professor." _

"_That's right where the frat boy had his close encounter." _

_I furrowed my brows, catching something. "Yeah. Hey, grab me that thing, would you?" Dean slid a magnifying light over to me, switching it on. "Thanks." _

"_What is it?" he asked from beside me. _

"_Looks like a... A belly scale?" I replied, genuinely confused, looking at this green scale. _

"_A belly scale?" Dean questioned. "From what?" _

"_Uh... an alligator?" I suggested weakly, earning an incredulous look from my brother. _

"_An alligator in the sewer. Come on," he reiterated in disbelief. _

_I looked over my shoulder. "What? Well, Dean, it's a classic urban legend." I straightened up. "A kid flushes a baby gator down the toilet, and it grows huge in the tunnels." _

"_But no one's ever really found one. I mean, the—they're not real." _

"_Well, neither's alien abduction, but something chomped on this guy," I defended. _

_Dean shook his head. "This couldn't get any weirder." _

"_Maybe we should get some help," I suggested. "I'll call Bobby. Maybe he's run into something like this before." _

"_Oh, I'm sure he has. Just your typical haunted campus, alien abduction, alligator-in-the-sewer gig," he replied sarcastically. "Yeah, it's simple. Also, since my phone's missing, see if Abs wants to join in."_

* * *

_**Present**_

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Motel Room—Day**_

"We decided to search the sewer anyway, so we split up, each taking one end of campus," Sam explained.

"D'you find anything?" Bobby asked, glancing from me to Sam.

"Yeah, I found something, just not in the sewer," I replied.

* * *

_**Flashback**_

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Campus—Night**_

_Emerging from the sewer, I entered the alley were we had left the Impala parked, I came to a stop. All four tires on my car were flat. "Son of a bitch!" I circled the car, inspecting it closer, and found a money clip on the ground, engraved with "S.W." I was seeing red. "Sam!" I went back to the motel room, finding Sam sitting in a chair reading a book. "You think this is funny?" _

"_It depends," Sam replied, shrugging his shoulders when he looked up from his book. "What?" _

_I mocked Sam's words in an incoherent mumble. "The car!" I yelled._

_His brows rose. "What about the car?" Sam asked, clearly not getting it. _

"_You can't let the air out of the tires, you idiot," I gestured to the door. "You're gonna bend the rims!" _

_This made him sit up straighter in the chair. "Whoa, wait a minute. I didn't go near your car." _

"_Oh, yeah? Huh. Then how'd I find this?" I dug in my jacket, holding up the money clip. Sam furrowed his brows before he pat his pockets, then stood._

"_Hey. Give me back my money!" he said, outstretching his hand. _

"_Oh, no, no," I told him. "Consider it reparations. For, uh, emotional trauma." I crossed over to the beds and shrugged my jacket off._

"_Yeah, very funny. Now, give it back." _

_I jerked his money clip out of his reach. "No." _

_Sam stood in front of me. "Dean, I have had it up to here with you."_

"_Yeah? Right back at you!" Sam reached for the money again, and again, before I was tackled to the bed. I struggled to get away from him, avoiding his outstretched arms flailing around my head for his clip. "Come on! Get off me!"_

"_Give it back!" Sam gritted out._

* * *

_**Present Day**_

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Hotel**_

"Okay, I've heard enough," Bobby interrupted.

"You showed up about an hour after that."

"I'm surprised at you two. I really am," he reprimanded. "Sam, first off, Dean did not steal your computer." I glanced over to Sam, smirking.

"But I –" Sam began, until Bobby held out his hand, silencing him.

"Shh, shh, shh, shh! And, Dean," his focus went on me, "Sam did not touch your car."

Sam looked over to me. "Yeah!"

"And if you two bothered to pull your heads outta your asses, it all would have been pretty clear," he finished.

I stared at him blankly. "What?"

"What you're dealing with." Bobby stood in front of us, waiting for everything to click…whatever that was.

Sam shifted in his chair. "Uh…"

"I got nothing," I finally said.

"Me neither," he agreed.

There was a sigh coming from somewhere, followed by a female voice. "_Y'all got a trickster on your hands, dingbats_."

I furrowed my brows, glancing over to Sam, who was bewildered. "Abs?" I looked around, getting ready to stand up until Bobby held his hand up, pulling out a cell phone from his chest pocket; Abigail's cellphone.

"_No, it's the Easter Bunny,_" Abigail's voice quipped, causing me to grin, then I frowned. She had been listening in this _entire_ time. "_Y'all really don't know what a trickster is?"_

"I knew that's what I thought!" I replied, raising my voice a little more.

Sam scoffed. "What?! No, you didn't."

Bobby glanced from me to Sam. "I got to tell you... you guys were the biggest clue."

"What do you mean?"

"These things create chaos and mischief as easy as breathing, and it's got you so turned around and at each other's throats," he explained.

"_It's got y'all more fucked up than a football bat,"_ Abigail concluded. "_I mean, Sam's laptop? The tires? It knows you're onto him,"_ she let out an amused laugh, "_and, bless your hearts, it's been playin' you two like fiddles._"

"So, what is it?" I asked, looking to Bobby for an explanation. "Spirit, demon, what?

"Well, more like demigods, really," Bobby corrected. "There's Loki in Scandinavia. There's Anansi in West Africa—dozens of them."

"_They're immortal, and they can create things out of thin air_," Abigail added. "_Things as real as you and me. Make them vanish just as quick._"

I nodded. "You mean like an angry spirit or an alien or an alligator." Everything was beginning to make sense to me now.

"The victims fit the M.O., too. Tricksters target the high and the mighty, knock them down a peg, usually with a sense of humor—deadly pranks, things like that."

"What do these things look like?" I asked.

"_Lots of things_," Abigail chirped, and I rolled my eyes, "_but human, mostly_."

I fell silent, allowing everything to sink in…to piece itself together. Turning to Sam, I leaned on the table. "And what human do we know who's been at ground zero this whole time?"

Sam frowned, thinking for a short time, then stared at me, finally understanding. "The janitor."

"Bingo," I replied, turning back to Bobby. "That's gotta be the trickster. Hey, Abs?"

"_Yeah?_" she asked.

"You're awesome," I smiled a little upon hearing a breathy laugh. "I mean it."

"_I know, dork_," came her reply, a smile in her voice. "_Y'all be careful._"

"Always, Abby," Sam replied.

"_I love you, boys._" Sam bowed his head, smiling. "_Includin' you, Bobby_."

"Yeah, yeah…" Bobby muttered gruffly, but nonetheless, smiling from under all that beard.

"_Oh, and Dean? Check under the seats of the Impala for your phone,_" Abigail stated. "_That's where they always end up._" I rolled my eyes at her, noticing Sam's smug expression and I threw a bottle cap at him.

Bobby snapped the phone shut, tossing it to me. "We gotta trickster to kill."

* * *

_**Crawford Hall—Day**_

We followed the janitor as he locked a gate with a key attached to his belt. "Sorry I'm dragging a little ass today, boys," he said, starting up a set of stairs. "Had quite the night last night," he mentioned. "Lots of sex, if you catch my drift."

"Yeah, hard not to," I said. "Listen, we won't be long." I signaled Sam behind the guy's back. "We just need to check a couple offices up on three."

"No problem," he said.

Sam glanced back to me. "Oh, damn…I, uh, forgot something in the truck." My chest tightened at that. "You know what? I'll catch up with you guys."

"Okay." We turned and began to walk up the stairs again.

"Just 'cause he reads the Weekly World News doesn't mean he's our guy," Sam sighed out. "I mean, you read it, too."

"I'm telling you, it's him," I said, defensively.

"Look, I just think we need some hard proof. That's all," Sam pushed.

I stopped in front of him. "Okay, another thing Bobby mentioned was that these suckers have a metabolism like an insect, a real sweet tooth."

"Well, I didn't find any candy bars or sugar. Not even Equal," he replied.

"Eh, that's probably 'cause you missed something." I smirked.

"I don't miss things," Sam stated, growing irritated.

"Oh, right, 'cause you're Mr. Perfect," I quipped.

"What? Are you really still pissed at me 'cause of what the trickster did?" he asked sarcastically.

"You been a tight ass long before that trickster showed up."

Sam held a firm gaze on me, shifting as he came up with something. "Look, just...stay here, keep an eye on the janitor," he told me, frustrated. "I'll go to his place to see if I can find any actual evidence before you go barging in and staking the man!" I tilted my head at his idea. "Just wait till I get back, okay?" I didn't say anything. "Okay?"

"Okay!" Watching Sam leave, I rolled my eyes at him, starting to pace. I pulled out Abigail's phone from my jacket, dialing her second number.

"_Joe's Hoes, my time your dime,_" Abigail greeted on the second ring.

I chuckled, more than relieved to hear her voice. "Hey, you."

"_Find out anythin'?_" she asked, a series of clangs sounded in the background, followed by the sound of running water.

I shrugged to no one in particular. "The guy reads _Weekly World News_, which has every death, or at least the same M.O. to the ones here." Abigail hummed. "But yet, it's not good enough for Mr. Perfect."

"_Well, in Sam's defense, you read it too_," she stated, and I rolled my eyes.

"What is it? Yours and Sam's time of the month? I swear that's what he said!" I blew out a heavy breath, hearing her laugh.

"_Psychic Twins_,_ remember, papa-bear?_" I heard Megan let out a squeal. "_Lord, child what are you doin'?_"

I grinned at that. "What?"

Abigail blew out a breath. "_Your child thought it would be a good idea to smear cinnamon apples everywhere, and on herself."_ I lowered myself on a set of steps, laughing. "_You laugh now, Winchester, just wait. You got baby-duty on this hellcat._"

"You act like that's a bad thing," I replied in mock offense. "I can take care of her with one hand behind my back."

"_I'll hold that to ya, sweet cheeks,"_ she said in a sweet voice. "_Anyways, what the hell's a purple nurple?_"

I grinned, shaking my head at her. "It—it's this drink, I don't even know what it is, but _shew_, it'll knock you on your ass."

"_Oh,_" she hummed. "_Any competition to Megan's diapers?"_

I shook my head at that, pursing my lips. "No. _No_. Nothing compares to that. _Sam_ after a week on that tofu crap, maybe."

Abigail chuckled in amusement. "_You got that right. So, did you find your phone?_"

I pressed my lips together. "Yeah," I lied, _knowing _better.

"_Uh-huh,_" she deadpanned. "_And we're lyin', why?"_

I blew out a breath. "You and your empath thing. Gotta quit doing that to me."

"_Better to keep you and Sam in line, dearie_." I rolled my eyes at her attempt to sound like the wolf off _Little Red Riding Hood_.

"Whatever you say, Red," I jested, allowing myself to look around the campus from where I sat. "How you feeling today?"

"_Ribs are sore,_" she replied with indifference, "_but hey, the bruisin's starting to fade. Might be able to find some good makeup and cover it up_." I licked my lips, feeling my chest tighten. "_Dean, you can't blame Sam for this…_"

"Yeah, well, as bad as I don't want to, I do," I muttered.

"_Why?_" she asked. I could hear the frown in her voice. "_It ain't Sam's fault. He was possessed._"

"You died, Abs," I scrubbed my hand down my face. "I watched the life leave your eyes and all Sam—_Meg—_did was laugh. If you think for one moment, that I gave up on you, I didn't." Abigail was silent, upset, no doubt. She'd been defending Sam since she came out of it, and I honestly couldn't blame her. "I can't help but think, if Bobby had been a second slower, Meg would've went after Megan…"

"_But she didn't. That's what matters,_" Abigail reminded, causing me to nod in agreement. "_We'll get through this. We've gotten through a lot of things,_" she added in a soft tone. "_I got faith in you, Dean_. _I always do_."

I gazed to the steps below me. "I don't know why."

"_Because I love you, and I believe in you,_" she replied. "_You gotta give yourself some credit where credit is due. I mean, look at me._" I frowned at the sound of her voice. "_When the goin' got tough, I tucked my tail between my legs and left—twice—when I said I wouldn't. I've hurt you, when it didn't need to happen._"

I glanced up to the darkening sky, blinking back tears. "Each time was because of _me_, Abs," I added. "And you came back, each time."

"_I don't deserve you, Dean._"

"Don't say that," I murmured. "Just…just don't, okay? Look, I'm not good at this tell-all crap, but I know this, I'm lucky to have you and Megan—_more_ than lucky, hell, I damn near feel like a millionaire." I took a shaky breath. "God strike me down for this chick flick moment, but, you're heaven to me, Abs." I stared out at the grassy yard. "Every time you and Megan stay behind, I leave a part of myself, but when you're with me…" I smiled to myself, shaking my head. "Everything you do, and I mean, everything; dirty socks and evolving food included." I blinked again, hearing her laugh softly. "Abs, I fall more and more in love with you, and it scares the hell outta me. You, Megan, and Sam are all that I've got, and all that makes me a happy man."

"_I know, Dean,_" her voice was shaky, trying to hide that she was a moment away from crying. "_I love you so much…please, be careful on this job, okay? I want my boys home. I want _you_ home._"

I nodded, knowing she couldn't see me. "I will."

* * *

_**Crawford Hall—Night**_

Hours had passed and Sam, or Bobby still hadn't shown. I was climbing the walls to get this over with, to get back to Abigail and Megan in timely manner. I ran a hand down my mouth, glancing around the campus. "Ah, screw this."

I entered the building with my guard high, rounding each corner as if this trickster was waiting around each one, descending two sets of staircases and came to a dead end at the metal gate with lockers in it. I glanced around me again, judging from the anxious twist of my gut. I knew that he was aware I was after him. I shook my head to rid my thoughts of rushing through this.

That's what'll get you killed.

Moving back up the last staircase, I put away the flashlight and pulled out a large wooden stake, only to pause upon hearing Barry White play from behind. I paused, turning slowly to stare at the doors leading into the theater. I approached the theater, caution in every step I took as I tucked the stake back into my jacket, and entered the theater. When I stopped inside, I stared on in shock at what I saw, allowing the door behind me to swing shut behind me.

At the top of the stage hung a disco ball and disco lights dancing across the room with a large, red bed in the center with a lone, familiar blonde, clad in black heels, fishnet tights, a pair black hot pants, and a black leather corset top. I descended the steps and only stopped walking when I got to the stage. The blonde on the bed before me emitted a breathy laugh, one that I had just heard a couple of hours ago. Her blue eyes danced in the light, yet smoldered with desire as she started to crawl towards me.

"I've been waitin' for you, Dean," she purred out. My throat tightened, knowing that this woman wasn't Abigail. I mean, she was, but she wasn't.

"You—you aren't real," I managed to get out.

The woman laughed once again, amused, as she swung her legs at the end of the bed, regarding me with those blue eyes that made my knees weak. "Trust me, papa-bear, it's gonna feel real." I choked on a laugh, feeling my heartbeat pick up and clenched my hands in an attempt to keep them from shaking. "C'mon," she urged, puffing out her bottom lip in a teasing manner. "Let me give you a massage." I shifted uncomfortably where I stood. Am I saying that I didn't like what I saw? No, because seeing my smoking hot fiancée in front of me was something I looked forward to, and there wasn't any denying I wanted her.

But this wasn't her.

I cleared my throat. "Wha... You know, I'm a—I'm a sucker for a happy ending. Really, I am, but... I—I'm gonna have to pass."

"She's a peace offering." I turned, spotting the janitor sitting in a seat, "I know what you and your brother do." He explained with a smug expression on his face, "I've been around a while—run into your kind before." I glanced back to Abigail, or what looked like Abigail, sitting on the edge of the bed, motioning for me to join her, "I also know about your girlfriend, Abigail—quite the pistol from what I've observed," My eyes flickered to him furrowing my brows, "and that cute little tyke, Megan." He added, "You know, you and her need to be on a soap opera. You two would be a _hit_!"

I glanced over my shoulder seeing the blonde wink at me. I swallowed hard, half listening to what he was saying, because I wasn't going to lie, the fake Abigail was nice to look at, "Well, then you obviously know that I... can't let you just keep hurting people," I told him, turning back so that I could think straight. The janitor rolled his eyes, like a kid to his father.

"Oh, come on!" He implored, "Those people got what was coming to them. Hoisted on their own petards." I frowned, not understanding what this guy had just said, but nonetheless, didn't care. "But you and Sam—I like you. I do." He smirked, tilting his head to the side, eyes wandering to Abigail, his smirk widening in a way that really pissed me off. "I _really_ like that little piece, Abigail. _Muy Caliente_." I clenched my jaw, when he waggled his fingers to her. "So treat yourself... Long as you want. Just long enough for me to move on to the next town."

"Yeah, I don't think I can let you do that," I told him in an apologetic tone.

"I don't wanna hurt you. And you know that I can," he said easily, breaking out a candy bar.

"Look, man, I—I got to tell you, I dig your style, all right? I mean," I looked over my shoulder to Abigail again, chuckling, "I do. I mean," I blew out a breath, "... and the slow-dancing alien—"

The trickster laughed. "One of my personal favorites. Yeah."

I cleared my throat. "But, uh, I can't let you go."

"Too bad. Like I said, I like you. Sam was right. You shouldn't've come alone."

I sucked air in through my teeth. "Well, I'll agree with you there." The door behind me slammed shut causing the trickster to look back up the stairs to see Sam. Bobby stood at the top of the next aisle, both of them armed with stakes.

"That fight you guys had outside—that was a trick?" I smiled at the trickster's words. "Hm. Not bad. But you want to see a real trick?" A masked man with a chainsaw appeared near Sam, attacking him. I lunged forward, stake in hand until the fake Abigail caught my wrist and twisted it, forcing me to drop the stake and face her.

The trickster remained seated in his seat, clapping his hands as he watched the scene before him, entertained as Bobby and Sam grappled with the chainsaw guy, and me with the fake Abigail. Let me tell you, this chick was not a force to be reckoned with. I mean, she was like the Hulk! Grabbing me by the collar, she hauled me up like a ragdoll and slung me over to the stage, where I collided with the side of the bed, only to be picked up by another fake Abigail (who was dressed in a hot little number, too).

As much as I would've liked to have been in the middle of this double Abigail sleepover party, I didn't like being punched repeatedly in the face, and listening to the trickster make commentary in the back. That was until both Abigail's picked me up, tossing me into the seats near him.

"Nice toss, ladies! Nice show," he applauded them, standing. Struggling to get up, I noticed a stake barely out of reach. "Dean... Dean, Dean, Dean." Sam tossed me the stake. "I did not want to have to do this." Catching it deftly, I stabbed him in the chest.

"Me neither," I replied, regarding his statement, grinding the stake further in. The chainsaw guy and both Abigail's disappeared. Jerking it out, the trickster fell back into a seat, dead. "You guys okay?" I questioned, turning to see Sam and Bobby approaching.

Sam shrugged. "Yeah. I guess."

"Well, I gotta say... he had style," I admitted, taking a step back, groaning from the pounding in my head. Hearing something clatter to the floor, I paused, seeing a phone on the floor. Sam picked it up, flipping it open out of curiosity.

"It's your phone," he said, holding it out to me.

"Huh," I murmured. "I was wondering what I did with it." I pocketed it, the three of us staggered outside, not exactly sticking around for the cops to show up.

We drove through the night and part of the day, taking turns catching a little sleep in between before making it back to Bobby's. I was beat, Sam was exhausted, and Bobby…well, Bobby was Bobby.

The three of us went to the porch, where Bobby opened the door, and walked in followed by Sam, and me. The smell of bacon, cinnamon, and eggs assaulted my senses as I shrugged off my jacket, stopping in my tracks as Megan crawled through the doorway from the kitchen. She babbled and grinned before she sat back, reaching up for me. "Dah!"

Sam let out a breath of shock, grinning to me. "Dean…she's crawling."

I kneeled down, picking my daughter up, forgetting about my jacket. "Hey, baby-girl. Dad's home." I held her close, closing my eyes as I pressed my lips against her head. "I'm home." I opened my eyes, smiling at her until something caught my eye. Leaning against the door frame, wearing a long shirt and lounge pants with her hair pulled up in a bun, stood Abigail smiling to us with the sun shining brightly behind her.

"Hey, guys. Breakfast's ready, if y'all's hungry." Sam grinned to Abigail, approaching her as he leaned down as she wrapped her arms around his neck in an embrace. "I made you an egg white omelet with all your rabbit foods."

He chuckled. "Sounds good, Abby. I'm starving, actually."

She took a step back with a soft smile, ruffling his hair. "Well, go on," she quipped, letting out a loud laugh when he returned the favor. "Dork!"

"Nerd!" he called out upon entering the kitchen.

Bobby followed behind him, stopping briefly to hug Abigail. "There's coffee already made, and a newspaper waitin' on ya."

"Good deal, Abby," he said, entering the kitchen, which left her, me and Megan.

"There's bacon, sausage, and apple dumplin's waitin' on you," she offered with a knowing smile. I approached her, grinning.

"That sounds amazing, because I could totally use it," I murmured, wrapping an arm around her tightly. Did I miss her and Megan? More than humanly possible. Being here with them was like being on cloud nine, if not better. Wordlessly, I pressed my lips against hers, taking my free hand and cupping her cheek. Her fingertips grazed my skin tenderly, sending chills up and down my spine as I pulled away.

"I missed you," Abigail whispered, then looked to Megan, smiling. "So has she."

"I've missed you both," I replied, kissing her lightly on the lips once more. "C'mon. Let's go eat, I'm starving." She grinned, taking my hand and led me into the kitchen where I lowered myself into a seat at the table where Bobby was sitting to my left, reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee. Sam sat opposite from me, appearing to enjoy actual food for the first time in a week. I watched Abigail stand in front of the stove, tossing a little bit of everything onto my plate, then subconsciously licked her fingers before she turned, plate in hand, setting it in front of me, and kissed my cheek, taking Megan into her arms. I looked at scene before me, and all I could think was that this was _so_ much better than the two stripper Abigail's.

Then, a small flare of hope swelled in my chest as well…could this be what the white picket fence life could be like for us?

* * *

**A/N: We got another chapter down in the books! _Tall Tales_ was an interesting chapter to write out considering that Abigail made limited appearances until the end! The next chapter, _Roadkill_ will be an exceptional one, I think! Sammy and Megan's gonna be sitting that one out, letting us delve more into Abigail and Dean's functioning on a hunt as if it were Pre-_Bad Company_! A lot of memories will be brought up, as well as the spirit Molly and Greeley! **

**I'd also like to give credit, where credit is due. First and foremost, the _Supernatural_ franchise. Without this show, this story couldn't be made possible. Secondly, I want to give credit to my lovely friend, _Ladysunshine6_ who has been more than just a friend to me. Lastly, I want to thank _SkyQueen1111_ for being my beta reader. I can't thank you enough for being a reader and a beta reader! You and _Ladysunshine6_ mean a lot to me!**

* * *

**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me or you can get a hold of me via Tumblr! I love receiving fan-mail for all three!**

* * *

**Love. Fiction. 2016—Thanks, love! I'm glad you enjoy it! ;)**

**zikashigaku—Thanks, love! I'm so glad you enjoyed it! This had to be one of my favorite chapters to write out aside from _In My Time of Dying_, along with _All Hell Breaks Loose_ (which is coming soon)! I have a few things floating up in the air for that, hopefully how it comes out, everyone likes it!**

**Grapejuice101—Thank you, dearie! I really appreciate that! I think Sam will _always_ have a thing for Abigail, whether it be platonic or _something_ else. We know he craves for what Dean and Abigail have; a family, unconditional love (not saying Abigail doesn't show it on a strict, brother-sister type thing), and a child. **

**Awerry—Thank you so much for the encouraging words! They really mean a lot to me!**

**angelicedg—Thank you dear! I appreciate it! Maybe she _did_ die, and had some other-worldly assistance! ;)**

**Ladysunshine6—Thanks, dear! I always love your encouraging words! You mean so much to me! I love that we work so well together!**

**Angstarr54—Welcome to _Strike Back_! It's awesome to have you! First off, I can't explain to you how much I love your review; I keep reading it over and over again, and to be honest, I haven't stopped grinning from ear to ear! Secondly, I _love_ your observations of the story so far! You have some _awesome_ theories about Abigail, some of which are still up in the air, and is being discussed! All will be revealed when the time comes, however! Lastly, I enjoy knowing that Abigail and Dean are a great pair. I love hearing/reading how well they work together. It shows me that I'm doing something right! I look forward to seeing more reviews from you, and again, welcome! Love having you! (:**


	21. Roadkill

**_Warning:_**_ There will be smut in this chapter. If it's not your thing, then just skip! (:_

* * *

_Oh mother, tell your children_

_Not to do what I have done_

_Spend your lives in sin and misery_

_In the House of the Rising Sun_

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

"Dean, I'm fine," I protested, crossing my arms in irritation.

Dean placed his hands on either side of my face meeting my irritated gaze with a concerned one. "I'm not taking any chances, Abs." I rolled my eyes at him, tilting my head back with gentle pressure in order for him to look at the yellowed bruise around my throat. "No soreness?"

I shook my head. "Nope," I replied, popping the _p_ as I spoke, straightening my head back to stare at my overprotective fiancée. Dean's hands remained in place, his thumbs stroking a small area of my face. "Can we go?"

"What about your chest?" he asked.

I let out a groan of displeasure. "You're killin' me, smalls!" Dean arched his brow at me, unimpressed. "And for the record, no—I'm aces." I added.

Letting his hands fall from my face, Dean sighed with apprehension. "Fine, we can go." I grinned, pulling his face to mine as I kissed him, then parted it, grabbing up my pistol from the motel's nightstand. Sam remained seated on the bed watching in amusement with Megan propped up in front of him as she held a toy elephant in her hand. Dean watched me closely, unsure of why he was even going to let me go; I mean, it wasn't like I broke a bone or anything…just bruised up. "You sure you can handle her?" I heard him ask his brother, uncertainty lacing through his words.

Sam looked up at his brother with a raised brow. "Uh, yeah. I got Megan." I shouldered a bag, turning to both boys more than ready to hit the road. It was the first time in almost a month that Sam was going to be left alone with Megan. I knew it hurt him tremendously that Dean often looked at him like some monster since he'd been possessed. However, Dean giving him the chance to watch his niece was something Sam truly looked forward to. He even had the whole night planned out, which wasn't much for a six-month-old; eat, bathe, poop, get mad, eat some more, and sleep.

Dean let out a heavy breath. "If you don't want to watch her—"

I grabbed his arm, dragging him to the door with persistence, "Sammy's _fine_, Dean. Let him be!"

Dean struggled against me upon reaching the door. "I mean it, Sam—"

"I got it, Dean! _Go_," Sam urged with a frustrated expression. "We're going to be right here," he added in reassurance. "I'll call if I need anything."

Dean's lips formed a thin line. A nagging feeling churning in my chest knowing that Dean was on edge about everything. The way his hand tightened in mine, the way he held his body—everything, I practically drug him out of the motel room. "Likewise!" I called back as Dean closed the door behind him.

Despite the feeling that remained, I tried to shove it back to allow myself to enjoy what alone time Sam was granting us for the night. I might've been acting like some hyped up kid going to Disney World, I wasn't going to deny it if the subject came up. I was more excited that this would be the first job we'd be doing on our own since Sam had come back and Megan being born.

Halfway to the Impala, Dean stopped me. I looked over my shoulder with furrowed brows, unsure of why he stopped me. This was a job after all. He was always first to be out of the room, first to get into the car.

"What is it?" I asked, dropping my eyes down to his hand clasped around mine. Dean licked his lips, glancing back to the motel room. I gave his hand a small squeeze. "Dean, Sam isn't going to hurt Megan."

His eyes fell on me. "You don't think I know that?"

I shrugged. "The way you look at him sometimes, I wonder."

With a raise of his brows, he tilted his head in an agreeing manner. "Maybe you have a point."

"Give him some slack, okay?" I turned towards him, wrapping his arm around my waist and tucked my arms against me. "I know it's gonna take time for you to gain some of that trust back, but you need to start small."

Dean rolled his eyes at me, pursing his lips in a sour expression. "Leaving my kid for a night isn't small, Abs. Going to the grocery store for pie and coming back, _that's_ small," he quipped, earning a soft smack on his ass. "What?"

I shook my head at him ignoring the expression that had remained on his face until I slid my hands under his shirt. Dean shivered against me upon running my fingertips along his toned stomach, a delicious swirl of euphoria pooled in my own. "Yeah, but this is the first time in a _year_ that we have a full night to ourselves solely for a job," I elaborated catching him crack a small smile, then I shrugged. "I mean, after this is over with…" I slid my hands up higher, raking the pad of my thumbs over his nipples, eliciting a sharp intake of air from him, "the possibilities are endless."

That caught his attention.

Dean's hands slid to the small of my back pulling my hips closer to him, peering down at me with a salacious glint in his eyes. "Are you bribing me?" he inquired earning a wry grin from me. "Cause, I think you're trying to bribe me into going."

I pooched my bottom lip out. "Depends. Is it workin'?"

Dean leaned his head back with a laugh. "To an extent," he replied, returning his gaze back to me. "Maybe if I had something to get me going?" His sentence wound up being more of a question than a statement, making me grin.

My hands lowered until they were resting on his hips and I kissed him. His hands slid up to my face where he deepened the kiss. Our tongues entwined with each other, dancing and fighting as a surge of warmth began from my toes to the top of my head, and a blissful sensation that I knew too well created a ball of tension in my lower belly.

Dean parted the kiss, though leaving his lips a few centimeters away from. "You think we got time?"

"After we get this done," I answered with a quick peck on the lips. "Then we can do whatever you want, for however long."

He rose his brows watching me move to the Impala. "What about how loud?"

"The sky's the limit," I caught Dean shifting with eagerness, a smile working its way to his eyes, and he practically skipped into step.

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" he asked, the soured attitude he had just a few moments ago was already a thing of the past.

* * *

_**Woods—Night**_

"All right. Tell me about Highway Forty-One," Dean stated, glancing over to me from the driver's seat.

"Twelve accidents over fifteen years," I began, glancing over the file we had made up. "Five of them fatal, all of them happenin' on the same night."

Dean's face skewed into that of confusion. "So what are we looking at ... Interstate dead zone? Phantom hitchhiker? What?"

I shook my head. "Not quite. Year after year, witnesses said the same thing made them crash. A woman appearin' in the middle of the road, bein' chased by a man covered in blood."

"Two spooks?" he asked, earning a look from me.

"Yeah, Molly McNamara and Jonah Greeley." I replied, tapping both of their photos, "It's a shame her husband had her cremated."

Dean blew out a frustrated breath. "Yeah, don't remind me. So, what kind of plan is this?" Dean questioned, glancing over to me as I glanced up at him from the map.

"Trust me, okay? It's gonna work," I answered, glancing back down to the map of the current area, I glanced at the speedometer. "Uh, you can slow down."

"What?" he asked, confused. I nodded to the speedometer which read close to sixty. Taking his foot off the accelerator, the car slowed quite a bit, slowly reaching down to fifty again. "This is crazy, even for you, Abs." Dean glanced back to the ice covered road. The stretch of road we were on was highway forty-one with reports of a woman being chased by a bloodied man like each previous report had mentioned.

I pushed my hair out of my face, trying to ignore how anxious I was getting. My spidey-senses were definitely tingling on this one, and Dean was very much aware of it, putting him on edge. "_There is…a house in New Orleans," _I began singing slowly, "_They call the Rising Sun…and it's been…the ruin of many a poor boy…and God I know I'm one—_"

"Pick a different song," Dean cut in brusquely, making me look up at him confused.

"What?" I asked, not exactly understanding what he was saying.

"You've sung _House of the Rising Sun _a million times already," he stated, throwing me a cautious glance. "To the point where you're starting to freak me out." I frowned, not realizing what I had been doing.

"Sorry," I muttered, casting a look outside. I could sense we were getting closer, at least, I was taking it like we were. I'd catch glimpses of a bloodied man in the back of my mind, angry. _The House of the Rising Sun_ seemed like it was on a constant loop like it was never ending. It was certainly freaking me out as well. "I think we're getting close."

Dean took his eyes off the road for a moment, knowing that all of this going on with me had to be connected with my abilities. Taking a hand off the wheel, he reached out and took mine, giving it a small squeeze in reassurance. "Hey, it's not—"

I glanced ahead seeing a woman, or the memory of one, staggering onto the road. "Dean!"

He looked back, seeing the woman waving her hands frantically for us to stop and cursed as he stomped on the brake. He took his hand back in the fraction of a second, steadying the wheel as all four wheels locked up and screeched loudly upon the icy road, this woman remained frozen, hands out, yelling, _stop!_ Out of reflex, I threw my hands out, bracing myself from being flung forward as the car stopped just short of her. "You've got to help me!" she cried out, frantically, as if she had endured some kind of a wreck.

Dean and I blew out a hard breath, shaking off the suddenness of what just happened. I leaned more on the dashboard, furrowing my brows to her out of recognition. "Is that—?" I allowed my sentence to fail, glancing to Dean who nodded, answering my mute question. He'd looked at the photographs and the obits, it was the woman—spirit—of a woman who had died on this road.

The woman rounded the front of the car, slapping on the window. "Please. Please!"

"All right, all right." I told her as I rolled the window down. "Calm down, okay?" I reassured, throwing a glance to Dean. "I'm gonna get out, let him park the car…tell us what happened." Her head bobbed, frantic still. Dean's hand squeezed mine briefly before I stepped out of the car, standing along the road with this woman as Dean pulled off to the side of the road and got out, resuming his place next to me.

"I-I swerved, a-and we crashed," she began, voice cracking with emotion. "And when I came to, the car was wrecked and my husband was missing. I went looking for him, but that's when the man from the road, he... he started chasing me." I wrapped my jacket around myself a little tighter, feeling the bite of the night air come through. Dean and I exchanged a mutual look of curiosity that seemed to also say what we were thinking—she didn't know she was dead.

Dean held my gaze a moment longer before his eyes went to the woman,."Did he look like he lost a fight with a lawnmower?" I had to fight with myself on a spiritual level to not smack Dean upside the head for being _that_ insensitive, to which, I cast him a warning glare, but nonetheless, awaited her answer.

"How did you know that?" she questioned in shock, her eyes flickering to the both of us.

Dean shrugged. "Lucky guess."

I licked my lips. "Ma'am, what's your name?"

"Molly," she answered. "Molly McNamara."

I smiled at her in a kind, reassuring manner in an attempt to calm her down a hair. "I think maybe you should come with us, Molly," I offered. "We'll take you back into town."

Molly shook her head. "I can't. I have to find David." she refused. "He might have gone back to the car."

"We should get you somewhere safe first," I tried again. "Then Dean and I will come back—we'll look for your husband."

I was met with another firm shake of her head. "No. I'm not leaving here without him," she replied stubbornly. I looked at Dean with a calm expression, meeting an understanding look. "Would you just take me back to my car, please?"

Dean nodded. "Of course," he gestured to the car. "Come on." I opened the rear passenger side door, allowing Molly to get in. We drove for _maybe_ a quarter of a mile with Molly's direction until we came to a stop where the tree line began to thin out. We stepped out of the car once again, the icy chill of winter caused me to shiver, tightening my jacket once more.

_I had to wear this getup_, I thought ruefully, pulling my beanie down over my ears, _Stupid me._

"It's right over there," Molly informed us, the snow and ice crunching under our boots as she led us through the woods a little way. She stopped abruptly, a tinge of bewilderment tickled my nose—_or was it just the cold? —_as she frowned deeply at the empty patch of forest in front of her. "I don't understand," she murmured. "I'm sure this is where it was. W-We hit that tree right there. This... this doesn't make any sense." She said more along the lines of to herself, rather than directing it to us. Staying behind as she went to investigate, Dean stood beside me, blocking off most of the cool air, but not the anxious feeling that twisted my stomach in knots.

"Dean, we got to get out of here," I shifted uneasily beside him. "Greeley could show up at any second." I shone my flashlight into the dark, wooded area; eyes scanning for signs of the deceased, and very pissed off spirit.

"What are you gonna tell her?" Dean questioned with a mutually low voice, his eyes scanning the area as well.

I shrugged. "The truth?"

_Yeah, right_. I could basically hear Dean say. "She's gonna take off running in the other direction," he warned. That was a plausible outcome, to which, I tilted my head in agreement but nonetheless torn between spilling the beans _and_ hiding the truth. I leaned to speak to Dean, only to shut my mouth when Molly turned back and approached us, distraught.

"I know it sounds crazy, but I crashed into that tree," I glanced at the scarred tree sympathetically. "I don't know who could've taken it. It was totaled." Her eyes scanned our faces for any sign of belief. "Please," she begged. "You have to believe me."

Of course, we believed her. We knew the outcome of that crash.

"Molly, listen, we do believe you," I spoke to her slowly, careful of how I worded my sentence. "But that's why we want to get you out of here." Dean shot me a cautious look as if asking me what I was doing. Ignoring it, for the most part, a stupid idea lit up at the last minute.

"What about David?" Molly implored, the feeling of worry coming from her made my heart hurt for her. "Something must have happened."

_Yeah, he got remarried,_ I thought ruefully.

"I have to get to the cops."

"Cops—that's a great idea," Dean stated playing off her words. "We'll take you down to the station ourselves." Anything was better than having a run in with Greeley. "So just come with us. It's the best way we can help you and your husband."

Molly stared at us, allowing herself to think about her decision. "Okay," she relented.

* * *

_**Four years ago**_

_**Steamboat Springs, Colorado**_

_**December 15**__**th**__**, 2002**_

"_I swear, if I see one more herd of elk, I'm gonna go postal!"_

_I tried not to laugh out loud at Dean's plaintive cry. Having since been in Colorado for the last week, this had to be the fourth or fifth time I had heard that sentence. It wasn't like the elk wasn't going to remain on the road for any period of time, five minutes at the most. However, watching him squirm behind the wheel of the Impala like he was going to miss a flight to the playboy mansion was a sight to witness._

_Dean was about to jump out of his skin._

"_There's gotta be a faster way around this," he gestured a hand to the brown mass of animals._

"_You could just plow through them," I offered, grinning mischievously upon Dean turning his head at me with a glare marring his handsome features. "What?" I was met by silence, so I shrugged. "They're good eatin'."_

"_Not gonna happen," he grumbled. "Dad would kill me."_

_A bemused hum resonated from my throat._

"_Anyways," I scooted over beside Dean with a map in my lap allowing him to look to his right. "The murders have taken place throughout town, right?"_

_Dean made a face, nodding in confirmation. "Right."_

"_So," I pointed to each marked location where each one had happened, his eyes following my finger along the map with precise concentration—just like we were trained to do._

"_Every single one of these has one crucial component bringin' them together," I continued while Dean glanced to me, then to the map waiting for an answer. I pursed my lips at him. "You really don't know?" I was greeted by silence, hearing the occasional bleat or bugle from the elk while Dean met my gaze with his brows raised and lips pooched out. "They're hearts are missin', leadin' this to werewolves, Dean."_

_Dean snapped his fingers. "Ah, werewolves." I rolled my eyes at him. "I knew that, just wanted to hear you talk." He offered me a smile that caused his eyes to sparkle, followed by a lighthearted chuckle that rumbled in his chest when he leaned in to capture my lips with his. I smiled into the kiss, brushing my fingertips against his cheek as the kiss deepened. He broke it, glancing to the snow covered road and smacked the steering wheel with a relieved groan. "About time!"_

_I let out a playful scoff. "What? Tired of kissin'?"_

_Dean's eyes flashed in the light of the sunset, his hazel irises swirling like a glass of liquor in the sun. "Oh, you know it, doll face._"_ I rolled my eyes when that same smile broke out across his face, reaching his eyes as they crinkled in the corners, taking my hand in his. "Passes the time, but also leads up to other things…" His sentence trailed off, only to be followed by a suggestive raise of his brows. _

"_You and I both know that ain't gonna happen until we get these werewolves taken care of," I pointed out. "The last thing we need is Dad jumpin' our asses over loose ends, then we'll never get out from under his iron fist."_

_Dean pursed his lips, then opened his mouth as if he were going to retaliate what I just said, closed it, then opened it again—words never really making it out until he tilted his head. "Yeah, okay. Fair enough," he agreed, half-heartedly, "because I _really_, and I mean really, enjoy getting away from him."_

_I could feel my face heat up from under Dean's gaze. "You're not close to kiddin'," I murmured, glancing back out of the window and to the snowcapped Rockies._

* * *

_**Present Day**_

_**Highway—Night**_

"We're supposed to be in Lake Tahoe," Molly murmured, pulling me from my thoughts and looked at her from over my shoulder out of sympathy.

"You and David?" I asked even though I knew the answer.

Molly nodded sullenly. "It's our five-year anniversary."

"A hell of an anniversary," Dean commented, earning a sharp look from me. Rather than be offended by what he said, Molly gave him a soft laugh, shaking her head.

"Right before, we were having the dumbest fight." Molly sighed heavily. "It was the only time we ever really argued... when we were stuck in the car."

I tilted my head to the side in agreement. "Yeah," I agreed with a small laugh. "I know how that goes." Dean turned his eyes to me, scowling.

"You know the last thing I said to him?" Molly asked us. "I called him a jerk." She leaned forward in the backseat putting her face into her hands in remorse. "Oh, god," I heard her moan out. "What if that's the last thing I said to him?"

Dean and I glanced at each other with grim expressions. There were several instances we had experienced that were a lot of near misses; oftentimes harsh words were the last things being said.

"Molly..." I cleared my throat, tucking my left leg underneath as I twisted back around to face her. "We're gonna figure out what happened to your husband. I promise." Suddenly the radio began to make odd noises, _House of the Rising Sun_ began playing.

The hairs on my arms rose, my heart sinking.

"Did you—" Dean's question faltered, turning his attention to me.

My face paled despite retaining a calm expression. "No."

Dean's jaw ticked. "I was afraid you'd say that." His hand moved to my thigh, squeezing it. The both of us were all too aware that we were currently weaponless.

I turned back to Molly, who held a thousand yard gaze. "This song ..."

"What?" Dean questioned, his voice tense with worry.

"It was playing when we crashed."

A chill ran through my body, growing increasingly uneasy when my hands and feet began to feel numb. An image of a man with glazed over eyes, blood pouring from his mouth, bedraggled hair and dressed in a vest flashed in my mind; it was Greeley. My hand flew to Dean's squeezing it as rage coursed through me like fire when the radio crackled again, settling on another station. Alarmed, Dean took his eyes off the road, turning them onto me when I dug my nails into the back of his hand, feeling my body tingle with electricity.

"_She's mine_," I croaked out, echoing the radio. "_She's…mine_." The radio crackled again, however, my voice lowered into a growl. "She's _mine_!"

"Abs?" Dean's eyes widened, undoubtedly concerned and freaked out as he kept glancing from the road to me. "Abs, you gotta snap out of it!"

After a few tense seconds, I blinked looking to Dean out of bewilderment. "What?" I asked. "_What_?"

"What is that?" Molly asked from behind us, her voice soft. Rather than Dean reply, we turned our eyes to see Greeley appearing in the middle of the road.

"Hold on," Dean ordered with determination in his voice, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"What are you doing?" Molly screamed at him while I grabbed the side of the door, bracing myself for whatever was coming our way. The car accelerated quickly, the force from the car jolting forward held us against the seats as it pummeled through Greeley, who vanished in a puff of smoke, "What the-What the hell just happened?" Molly demanded as she turned to look out the rear window.

"Don't worry, Molly." I told her in an attempt to calm her down, "Everythin's gonna be all right." Before Molly could speak, the Impala began to shudder.

"Spoke a little too soon, Abs," Dean coasted the Impala to a stop on the side of the road, trying to start it again, only for the ignition to sputter and fail. Dean let out a plaintive sigh. "I don't think he's gonna let her leave," he said, turning to look at me with caution swirling in his eyes.

"This can't be happening," Molly denied as we got out of the car. Another cold rush of air washed over me, to which I shivered following Dean to the back of the Impala to retrieve our weapons. Molly's priorities slipped down to the bottom of our To-Gank list.

"Well... Trust me. It's happening," Dean informed her, throwing a cautious glance to me as he opened the trunk. I lifted the false hood, Dean propping it up with a gun. Molly rounded the car to stand with me, stopping abruptly upon seeing the arsenal, then began to back away slowly.

The expression on her face blatantly read that we were a bunch of psychos. "Well... Okay," she stuttered, looking between Dean and I like we were insane. "Thanks for helping, but I think I got it covered from here."

"Wait," I moved to follow her, "Molly, Molly, wait a minute." I held my hands out as a gesture to show her I meant no harm, realizing that I still held the gun in my hands. I set it down beside me quickly when she held her hands out to me. I paused, meeting her scared expression.

"Just leave me alone," she begged.

"No, no, no." I shook my head at her. "Please," I implored watching her retreat. "You have to listen to me."

"Just stay away." Molly turned, beginning to leave.

I clenched my jaw, putting my hands to my face in frustration. "It wasn't a coincidence that we found you, all right?"

Dean straightened up, turning to me and Molly with a calm expression gracing his features, obviously not bothered by the scene in front of him.

Molly stopped, turning back to me. "What are you talking about?"

"We weren't just cruising by when we ran into you, sister," Dean added, standing beside me. "We were already out here—Hunting."

"Hunting for what?" Molly implored.

Dean gauged her expression, then shrugged. "Ghosts," Dean answered with indifference, being brutally honest as he turned back to the trunk.

My brows rose in surprise. "Well, don't sugarcoat it for her."

"You're nuts," she told us, denial in her voice.

"Really? About as nuts as a vanishing guy with his guts spilling out," Dean threw out from over his shoulder. "You know what you saw."

I licked my lips, sharing a glance with Dean. "We think his name is Jonah Greeley," I explained. "He was a local farmer that died fifteen years ago on this highway."

"Just ... stop." Molly turned away from me, refusing to listen anymore.

"One night a year, on the anniversary of his death, he haunts this road," I continued, maybe or maybe not telling her the whole truth. More like a quarter of it. "That's why we're here, Molly. To try and stop him."

"Now, I suppose this ... ghost made my car disappear, too."

I opened my mouth, closing, then opened it again, set on blurting out the whole truth.

"Crazier things have happened, huh?" Dean jested hitting me on the arm gently as he walked by. Molly stood off a few feet away with her arms crossed, frowning in disbelief.

"You know what? I'm all filled up on crazy. I'm gonna get the cops myself," Molly informed us, spinning around to begin walking back to town.

Dean hefted his shoulders. "I don't mean to be harsh, but I don't think you're gonna get too far."

Molly furrowed her brows at him, a slap of anger heating my face up. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Dean pulled a face. "Means that plan A was trying to get you out of here." His eyes fell on me as he spoke. "Obviously that didn't go over too well with, uh, Farmer Roadkill, who uh, somehow radioed himself through my girlfriend."

I frowned at his words, shoving down any questions I had about what happened. That would be brought up at a later time. Battling with several emotions within me, I let out a breath, watching as a stream of vapor billowed from my nose and mouth, dissipating into the night air.

"Molly, we're telling the truth," I told her gently. "Greeley's not gonna let you leave this highway."

"You're s... you're serious about this, aren't you?" Her eyes flickered between Dean and me, hardly believing what we were saying. That was understandable, and often, it wasn't surprising since we usually dealt with this kind of reactions from 'normal' people when we laid some if not all, cards on the table.

Dean's gaze never wavered from Molly's, the corners of his mouth twitching into an infuriating smirk. "Deadly."

"Every year, Greeley finds someone to punish for what happened to him." I explained to her. "Tonight that person is you."

"Why me?" she asked with furrowed brows. "I didn't do anything."

"Doesn't matter," I said with a shrug. "Some spirits only see what they want."

"So you're saying this ... Greeley, he took my husband?" Her voice hitched in her throat. "Oh, god."

I exchanged a glance with Dean, still weighing my options on the truth. "Molly, look, we're gonna help, all right?" I approached her, gently taking her hand in mine, "But first, you gotta help us."

"Help you?" she queried with knitted brows. "How?"

* * *

_**Four years ago**_

_**Motel—Night**_

_**Steamboat Springs, Colorado**_

_**December 15**__**th**__**, 2002**_

_Thin frozen puddles cracked under my winter boots. The bitter cold of the Colorado winter seeped through my gloves, biting at my fingertips like mini-sharks, numbing my fingers until they felt thick and stiff. The only form of warmth I had was the bags of food hanging from my hands. Digging into my jacket pocket, I fished out the motel key, pushing the door open to be greeted by a few chords of Eric Clapton's Cocaine._

_Dean, who was comfortably settled in on the bed, lifted his eyes from a case file and grinned at the sight of food. "I'm so glad you got here, I'm starved."_

_I chuckled, setting the bags of food onto the table. "I was gone for thirty minutes, Dean."_

"_That's enough time to starve to death, too," I heard him quip from behind me._

"_Found anythin' else that we might've overlooked?" I asked, hearing the bed creak from Dean getting up. Seconds later, I felt his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me against his body._

"_Nothing." His voice became lowered, huskier, when one of his hands pushed some of my hair out of the way, exposing my neck. "However, there's supposed to be a blizzard hitting the place in a few hours," Dean added, pressing his lips against the sensitive skin. I fought back a moan, holding myself against the edge of the table, although I tilted my head to the side, closing my eyes at the gesture as he continued to speak. "Figured we'd check out the warehouse outside of town before it hit…"_

"_Ain't gonna do much if you keep this up," I murmured, pushing through the haziness of Dean's carnal attempts, who in turn, chuckled in amusement as I took out a box of food that contained a bacon cheeseburger and fries. Dean paused, peering over my shoulder._

"_Bacon cheeseburger?" he asked, earning a hum in response. "You're the best."_

_I let out a breathy laugh. "Only because I get you food." I set out another box which contained another valuable asset to Dean; apple pie. Stepping to the side, Dean's hands reached out for the unopened box with a boyish grin, set on just eating the pie until I tapped his hands with mine. "Eat the burger first, Dean."_

_The expression on his face was priceless. It was something between being offended and pouting. His brows pulled together in a deep scowl. "That's my pie."_

_I turned towards him. "Eat the burger then you can have the pie, simple."_

_He rolled his eyes, taking the box containing his burger and lifted it over my head as he turned back to the bed. "You think you're my mom, and you're not."_

"_No, but I'm your girlfriend and adopted sister, so, it's in the job description," I shot back, hearing him scoff as he plopped back down onto the bed with a grunt. I moved over to the mini-fridge, taking out two bottles of beer before joining him where he graciously accepted it and offered me a greasy, cheeseburger-y kiss in return._

_The both of us ate in silence, watching VH1 play seventies and eighties rock music videos. The only thing missing was Sam. The instant his name popped into my head, I lost my appetite, setting my half-eaten burger back into the box. My stomach knotted up painfully, allowing myself to begin to wallow in my thoughts._

_How was he doing?_

_What was college-life like?_

_Did he like it? Of course he did. It was better than hunting._

_Did he miss us?_

_I brought my thumb to my mouth, chewing on the skin around my nail in silence until Dean took notice. I heard him let out an annoyed sigh. I looked over to him, laying my hand on my lap._

"_You're thinking about Sam again, aren't you?" he stated._

_I turned my gaze to my lap, nodding slowly. "Yeah."_

"_Abs, Sam made his bed. You know that," he replied, nonchalant. Which surprised me. Dean was equally hurt by Sam's absence, he just didn't display it like I did. Rather than process it like a normal person, he was just a brat._

"_Doesn't mean you can act like you don't care," I pointed out in a quiet voice, seeing a softened look swirl in his eyes. He did care about Sam. "I wish he was here."_

_Dean opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by one of our cell phone's ringing. "We'll talk about this later," he promised, picking up his phone, then flipped it open. "Yeah." His brows furrowed, eyes flitting up to me as he listened to the person on the line. "Of course," he replied. "We're on our way."_

"_What is it?" I asked._

"_Looks like we got a bite."_

* * *

_**Present Day**_

_**Cabin—Night**_

Molly took the lead in the woods, allowing Dean and I to hang back about twenty feet. The cold night air had a bite that reminded me of Colorado, maybe not as bad as it, but it had potential. Our boots crunched under the snow, twigs, and ice mixture in sync, anticipating each other's positions by a calculating glance. However, rather than voice anything, Dean's silence was heavy, much like it once had been on various past jobs.

"What happened back in the car?" I managed to ask, glancing to Molly, keeping her in my line of sight. Her image shifted under my gaze, but that was a normal thing when it came to a spirit.

"You weren't you," came his curt reply, followed by a cautious look my way. I frowned under the darkened expression in his eyes. "If anything, you were Greeley." I tightened my lips into a grim line, nodding. "You could go back to the car, wait this out," Dean suggested.

"You know I'm not gonna do that," I pointed out, seeing his brows rise a smidgen as he tilted his head. "'sides, Dad would claw his way out of wherever he's at to kick us in the ass if I backed out on a job."

"Not saying you don't have a point, Abs." We stepped over a fallen tree. "Just don't want you compromising yourself." I shot him a glare. In turn, Dean shrugged with indifference. Of course he was going to play that card.

_Compromising the mission or whatever_.

John Winchester drilled that one into our heads like my dad drilled each verse of an exorcism into mine. Another waft of night air tugged at my hair and bit at my fingers. I felt the heaviness of my joints beginning to stiffen, making me flex my hands one at a time out of discomfort. Once again, a pair of concerned hazel orbs strayed from the trail and onto me.

"You cold?"

I shook my head. "Nah, my hands do this all the time," I replied, reassuring him with a small smile. Dean glanced ahead once again to Molly, then to me and paused.

"Abs, don't lie, alright?" His voice remained low, yielding a warning underneath. "If you so much as shiver, let me know." I pressed my lips together, licking my bottom lip in a tentative fashion, glancing to Molly who was easily a good fifty feet ahead of us. "I'm not taking a chance on you getting too cold."

Of course, big brother mode had kicked in long before Greeley's appearance. Overbearing and overprotective as ever. However, feeling a painful tug in my chest made me realize that I wasn't the only one thinking back to Colorado. I blew out a breath, watching the vapor rise for a moment, then relented, giving Dean a small nod.

"I'll let you know, a'ight?" I murmured, seeing concern and worry flash across his face. Wordlessly, he nodded, allowing him to briefly reach out and graze my cold face with his fingertips.

"This is it," Molly's voice cut through the stillness of the woods. Dean's hand fell, trudging ahead in a quick pace with me following a few steps behind. "This is where I saw him." I faltered, seeing a dark, decrepit hunting cabin loom ahead. Molly turned to us with a pensive expression, glancing back to the cabin like a predator wary antelope.

We approached what could've been the living area of the cabin, the beams of our flashlights shining inside. "Must have been his hunting cabin," Dean mused, and I nodded, stepping past Molly to peer inside, taking notice of an array of tools hanging near a bloodstained table. I grimaced at the sight. "Huh. Seemed like a real sweet guy." Dean picked up on my disgust easily, mirroring his own disgust with sarcasm.

"No markers or headstones outside," I pointed out.

"You're looking for Greeley's grave?" Molly questioned, earning an impressed look from me. She was catching on quicker than what I thought. Maybe even quicker than what Dean had thought, judging by the face he pulled, turning his back to us as he inspected the room closer.

I nodded to her. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"So we can dig up the corpse and salt and burn it," Dean replied flatly. I coughed to hide the amused laugh that threatened to come out. Dean's bluntness was astounding, but he was right. In a way, sugarcoating the truth to a dead woman seemed a little moot.

"Oh. Sure, naturally," came her sardonic reply, earning another cough from me. Dean raised his brows at her quip, smirking.

"It's a way to get rid of a spirit," I told her once I felt I was level-headed enough to speak.

"And that'll save David?" she asked slowly, her voice laced with a hint of eagerness. My eyes remained on her for a beat, admiring how adamant and driven she was wanting to find David. Over the years, I had met my fair share of women who were driven like her, but I also knew quite a few of women whose first thoughts were, _you're on your own!_

I shrugged. "Well, this is what'll help both of you," I explained to her, then tipped my head to the side as I pulled a face, "provided there's a corpse to be found."

"So how do we find it?"

I met her question with another shrug of my shoulders. "I'm not sure," I admitted. "After Greeley died, his wife claimed the body." I ran my fingers along a knife that had remained on the table. "And that was the last anyone saw of her. So good guess she brought him back here." I then tilted my head again. "But they had a thousand acres. He could be buried anywhere on 'em."

"So this is really what you guys do?" she asked. "You're like Ghostbusters?"

Dean threw me an amused, yet smug look that matched mine. "Yeah."

"Minus the jumpsuits," he then added, abandoning the search for any clues. "Look, ladies, this is a fascinating conversation and all, but this highway is only haunted once a year, and we got till sun-up to wrap this thing up." He looked at me and Molly in turn. "What do you say we move it along, okay?" I frowned at his curtness, although sensing his uneasiness and haste. "Great."

We moved outside, continuing our search. Molly and I took a path while Dean took another path, much to his displeasure.

"What are we looking for?" Molly questioned.

"Greeley's house," I replied, stepping cautiously over a well-hidden log. "Maybe he's buried there," I suggested, allowing myself to give her an once-over. "Look for roads or paths or somethin'—stay close."

Molly nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

"_Molly?_ _Molly, help me_," a man's voice called out from inside the dark forest around us. "_Molly?_"

Molly and I halted, her eyes flying to me, widened with worry. "_David_?" she called out. "_David_?" I shifted in my place, scanning the edge of the forest. "_David_!" Molly ran into the forest before I could stop her, my fingers barely missing her arm.

"Molly!" I called out after her, following suit. I found her ahead of me, spinning around searching for the source of her husband's voice. "Molly, you need to—" An elbow flew into my nose, sending me to the snow-covered ground with a yelp. In front of me, Greeley appeared before her, grabbing Molly by the shoulders tightly. The farmer forced Molly to her knees while she screamed, and Dean came into sight, wielding a shotgun at Greeley, shooting him in the head and he vanished.

I remained planted on the ground, holding a hand to my nose that was pouring blood while Molly fumed. "What has that son of a bitch done with my husband?"

I grimaced, taking my hand away from my nose feeling the warmth of my blood covered gloves quickly cool off. "Just take it easy, all right?" Molly's anger and worry was astounding, but then again, Dean seemed pretty livid as well. "You're gonna see David again," I assured her. "You will."

Dean approached me, hefting me to my feet with a darkened expression upon seeing blood smeared across my face. "I know, I know…" I avoided his gaze. "Bad call." I worked my jaw oddly. "It's just a busted nose…" I murmured, shivering slightly after I licked the blood off my lips, the taste of copper assaulting my mouth when I moved my head to the side and spat. Getting a busted nose wasn't why Dean was pissed, it was the fact that Molly had left my sight for a split second and consequently, getting attacked when I shouldn't have.

"Then why'd it happen?" he asked in a low voice.

I met his stern gaze. "Stupidity?" I tried with a wry smile trying to rouse a different reaction from him. Instead, his eyes went over my shoulder as if something else had caught his attention.

"Hey," he jerked his chin behind me. I turned spotting the unsettling, creepy path that was behind me. "Follow the creepy brick road."

I gestured to Molly to follow Dean. "Go ahead." Dean led the way with Molly behind him, and lastly, me bringing up the rear.

Molly finally spoke up after a few moments of silence. "That thing shoots rock salt?"

My eyes went to the shotgun Dean held in his hands, and chuckled at her question. "Yep."

"And plain salt keeps away spirits?" she repeated. I smiled despite the lower half of my face being covered in blood. It's been a while having to explain the properties of salt and spirits.

I fell into step beside her. "Simple remedies are always the best," I began. "In most cultures, salt's a symbol of purity, so it repels impure and unnatural things." I paused, trying to make it seem a little simpler. "Same reason you throw it over your shoulder."

We rounded a corner, seeing a house loom before us amongst the snow. Dean let out a sigh, shaking his head at the vine covered, weathered home.

"You know, just once I'd like to round the corner and see a nice house," he implored.

"If that was the case, then we'd be in the wrong line of work," I muttered, reaching into the bag on Dean's shoulder, taking out another shotgun. Dean remained fixed on the house, pulling a face in consideration of what I said, a corner of his mouth tipped up in a smirk.

Molly and I entered the house first as Dean remained outside to look around, hoping to find a headstone of some kind. Upon stepping through the threshold, I paused feeling my chest squeeze painfully, holding a hand against the cold walls to steady myself; _The decrepit house faded away from me as I stood in the middle of a rather nice home; it was lived in, clean. I could smell the familiar, homey scent of some kind of stew being made with a second scent of coffee lingering in the air. _

_The evening sun shone through the windows, lighting the inside of the house in golden hues._

_Pitter-pattering of feet ran across the floor in a nearby room, making me walk through and peered in, seeing a black lab sniff around. I knew it would've been impossible for the dog to have seen me, although it was super tempting to reach out and pet it. He was beautiful. I looked to my left seeing a woman stand by the stove, humming a tune to herself._

A set of footsteps pulled me back, the warm glow of the sun vanished being replaced by the cold, harshness of night when Dean entered the room, shivering slightly. I straightened up, taking my hand away from the wall as I cleared my throat, ridding myself of the house's memory. "Any headstones outside?"

Dean looked to me and snorted at my question. "Yeah, right. Is it ever that easy?"

"I guess not," I answered in a soft tone as Dean shouldered past me, and entered the kitchen. I frowned deeply, remembering the woman humming over the stove top with a dog exploring nearby.

"You two check upstairs," Dean instructed, nodding to the dark staircase leading to the second story. "See if you can find any notes or records telling us where he's buried. I'll just check down here."

Molly followed me up the stairs, each step we took was cautious and aware of the state they were in. The first room we came to was strewn with papers.

I let out a heavy breath. "Gr_eat_," I muttered, moving to pick up some of the papers.

"Look at this," I heard Molly say lightly. I saw a scrapbook in her hands as she moved to the bed and sat down, the bed creaking underneath her weight. I joined her, peering into the old book. "It's Greeley and his wife," she murmured.

My heart clenched seeing the woman. _That's who was humming_, I thought to myself taking note of the couple. Jonah Greeley looked happy, his arms around his wife in a loving embrace. I felt a lump form in my throat as I allowed my fingers to trace the photograph gently. I couldn't begin to fathom what kind of state of despair and pain it would be like after losing someone as monumental to losing a significant other.

Sure, I knew it felt like losing my family. The agony and sleepless nights I had spent waiting on a phone call from my parents stating that they were on their way back from a job. Then I had to relive that same pain and sleeplessness again after John had died, however, watching Sam and Dean endure it was just as painful.

But losing someone like Dean or Megan? I pressed my lips in a tight line, fighting the painful prick of tears welling in my eyes. I had to will that kind of image away before Dean made it up here only to give me the stink eye over being a sap. I reached out, flipping a few pages, taking in each photograph, each memento as if I were trying to put myself in their shoes. I paused on a page that contained a letter.

"It's a love letter he wrote her," Molly whispered out, tears in her eyes as she read it. "My god, it's beautiful," she murmured, shaking her head slowly. "I don't understand how a guy like this can turn into that monster."

I blinked rapidly in an attempt to rid myself of tears taking my eyes away from the letter. "Um ..." I cleared my throat after my voice cracked. "Spirits like Greeley are, uh ... like wounded animals—lost—in so much pain that ... they lash out."

Teary eyes turned to me, not understanding. "Why? Why are they here?"

I shrugged. "Well, there's some part of them that-that's keepin' them here. Like their remains or, um... unfinished business."

Molly stared at me, confused. "Unfinished business?"

"Yeah. Uh, it could be revenge. Could be love." I tilted my head. "Or hate. Whatever it is, they just hold on too tight. Can't let go. So they're trapped. Caught in the same loops. Replayin' the same tragedies over and over."

Molly looked to me, taking my hand in hers with a sad smile. "You sound almost sorry for them."

I laughed softly at her words. "What can I say? I'm a sap…They weren't evil people to begin with when they were still alive, you know? A lot of them were good." My eyes flitted to the door where I could sense Dean hovering just a step away from the entrance, allowing me to let out a shaky breath. "Just..." I licked my lips, grimacing as another hit of copper assaulted my mouth. "Somethin' happened to them. Somethin' they couldn't control."

"Abby's always a little J. Love Hewitt when it comes to things like this," Dean's voice cut in smiling a little. Molly and I met a softened expression that quickly turned into indifference. "Me, I don't like 'em," he continued with a shrug, "and I sure as hell ain't making apologies for 'em," he said to Molly. "There's nothing downstairs. You find anything?" he asked, turning his attention to me.

"Uh, just about every piece of mail or receipt they ever had," I responded in a light voice. "Looked through a couple, but nothing about a grave so far." Dean furrowed his brows, moving to investigate a wall. I watched him, curious as to what he'd noticed. "What is it?" I asked as he ran his fingertips lightly across a faint edge that was hidden behind a cabinet.

"There's something behind here," He replied, tossing his flashlight to me so he could move the cabinet aside, revealing a small hidden door. Dean tried to open it, "It's locked from the inside." I stood, moving beside him with the flashlight trained on the door as he turned around, throwing a back kick to the door, which did nothing.

I looked over to him with raised brows, as did he. Again, Dean braced himself and kicked harder, the sound of his boot making contact with the door resounded like a canon almost, followed by the door crashing inward. Dean crawled through it first, followed by myself, and finally Molly; the three of us swatting away cobwebs in order to stand up.

"It smells like old lady in here," Dean commented, wrinkling his nose in disgust as the beam from my flashlight found a corpse hanging by the neck from the ceiling. "And that would explain why." I felt sick to my stomach. "Well, now we know why nobody ever saw her again."

"She didn't want to live without him," Molly commented, sounding broken. I looked to the corpse of Greeley's wife stricken, then moved to a chair where I placed it near the corpse, climbing on it. I held my breath, wrapping my arms around the corpse's waist, determined to get her down.

Dean looked at me, disgusted to say the least. I struggled for a moment, realizing I wasn't tall enough nor was I strong enough to get her down, "Dean, give me a hand."

"Really?" He asked, until I shot him a withering look.

"What are you gonna do?" She asked, when I blew out a breath, staring up into the empty eyes. I actually felt like I was at a loss, taking the back of my hand and wiped away a few tears that threatened to escape.

"We can't leave her like this," my voice broke, not exactly looking to Dean.

"Why not?" Dean inquired, his disgusted look remaining in place.

"She deserves to be put to rest, Dean," I frowned at him with pleading eyes, to which Dean agreed reluctantly, cursing under his breath when he steadied the corpse allowing me to cut through the rope.

* * *

_**Four years ago**_

_**Warehouse—Night**_

_**Steamboat Springs, Colorado**_

_**December 15**__**th**__**, 2002**_

_The scent of oil and diesel came in wafts, oftentimes, clinging in the air for a short time. No one seemed to be around. Not even a sign that the werewolves we were after were remotely in the same area, but then again, they were pretty stealthy when it meant their lives hung in the balance. According to the locals, it was really the only building in town that was off-limits to the public._

_And there was good reason for it. _

_The roof had holes scattering throughout it, allowing snow to come through. Icicles hung dangerously along the circumference of it. Every so often, one would fall to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. Dean and I clung to the shadows provided by the receding moonlight from outside. Whenever the moon hid behind a set of clouds, Dean and I remained still, not wanting to blow our cover._

"_I'm starting to think this is a bust," Dean whispered._

_I shook my head. "No…they're here," I replied, frowning deeply as a noise alerted me somewhere off in the distance. "I can feel them." _

_A low, guttural snarl erupted from the shadows just as the moonlight returned; a man lunged forward causing Dean and I to jump out of the way with a curse. I gripped my pistol tightly, realizing that the male werewolf came after me. Turning, I fell to my knees when he made another move towards me. I fired three well placed shots into his chest, watching him fall to the floor, dead._

"_Guess our cover's blown," I called out, searching the area around me._

"_Your guess would be right," Dean called back, sounding like he was deeper into the warehouse than I was. "Damn, mutts!" I heard another snarl, followed by a couple of shots. "Again, damn mutts!"_

_Despite the situation I was in, I couldn't help but laugh at Dean. However, it ended when a female came out of nowhere and tackled me, "I'm gonna wipe that laugh off your face!" She snarled out, hand poised back to rip my throat out. I reached for my gun with a grunt, feeling it just an inch out of my reach. I bucked my hips, throwing the she-were off balance, allowing me to snatch my gun up, sending a round through her forehead. _

"_Abs, you alright?" Dean's voice called out, concern lacing in his voice._

_I rose to my feet rubbing my throat gingerly. "Yeah, peachy!" I replied, grimacing at how sore it was already becoming. "There should be three more of these bastards, keep on the lookout."_

"_Great," Dean replied sarcastically. "You uh, wouldn't be able to see where they're at, would you?"_

"_Unfortunately, no." I moved along the rows of machinery with heightened caution, keeping my eyes peeling for any signs of movement. The doors closest to me burst open, allowing more light to filter through as _four_ more werewolves came in, snarling. "Oh, come on!"_

_I aimed, firing on one of them, then retreated further under the cover of darkness. "Four more!" I hollered out, ducking behind a crate as I tried to calm my heavy breathing. Dean fired off some shots, cursing as he put down another werewolf. Slowly, I looked around the crate, seeing two males round the corner, noses in the air. I bit my lip, returning to my place behind the crate and weighed my options; shoot one, putting it down and deal with the second, risking the fact that I would most likely be disemboweled, or, hope and pray that Dean could make it to where I was at as backup._

_I went with option one._

_I emerged, flashlight trained on the first male, nailing him squarely in the forehead. The second one did exactly what I thought; charged with claws and fangs bared, intending to make a dent in my head. I fired again, missing as he lashed out. I jumped out of the way, narrowly missing his claws until he retaliated, swiping at my side. Unlike the wasted silver bullet that missed, his claws didn't, nailing me in the side. I let out a pained yell, falling to the floor, clutching my side, feeling blood coat my hands in a thick, sticky layer. _

"_Abs!" Dean yelled out, frantic, hearing his footsteps echo as he ran blindly in the dark searching for me._

_The male werewolf stood over top of me, fangs bared. "This is where you die, bitch."_

_I let out a harsh laugh. "I don't think so, pup." He obviously took offense to being called a pup, letting out a deafening roar as his arm pulled back, ready to end me. A shot rang out, to which the werewolf froze, eyes widening. "This is where you die, you son of a bitch."_

_Crumpling to the floor in front of me, I leaned my head back, shutting my eyes briefly until I felt Dean's cold hands touch my face. "Jesus Christ, Abigail."_

_I met his worried expression with a smile. "I'm fine, Dean. Jus' nicked in the side." I watched him peel back my jacket to reveal the four gashes in my side. His brows pulled together, eyes drawing back to mine. "Help me up?"_

* * *

"So... So, if you manage to put Greeley to rest, too... What happens to them?" Molly asked after an hour of Dean and I digging a relatively deep grave, considering it being frozen solid. Dean held his hand out, helping me out of the grave.

"Lady, that answer is _way_ beyond our pay grade," Dean answered her in a churlish manner as I began to put dirt back into the grave.

Molly seemed unfazed by Dean's rudeness. "You hunt these things, but you don't know what happens to them?"

"Well, they never come back," he told her. "That's all that matters."

I shook my head at Dean's answer, knowing that it wasn't sufficient to her. "After they let go of whatever's keepin' them here, they-they just go," I answered, flexing my stiff hands with a grimace. "I hope someplace better, but we don't know. No one does."

"What happens when you burn their bones?"

I blinked, curious as to why she was playing twenty questions about the afterlife. I didn't exactly have a good answer, just meager suggestions and hypotheses, things that Sam and I had talked about over a beer or two. Dean had stopped filling the grave in, propping his hands on the end of the shovel as he listened to me speak.

I made a face that could've passed for a stalemate. "Umm..." I scratched the back of my head. "Well, my dad and his used to say that was like death for ghosts, you know?" Molly nodded, grasping what I had said somewhat. "But... The truth is, we still don't know. Not for sure." I gazed over to Dean as Molly sunk down to a crouch at the end of the grave. I shrugged once again, kind of seeing why Dean mentioned that I was all J. Love Hewitt on these things. "Guess that's why we all hold onto life so hard—even the dead," I started back filling in the grave. "We're all just scared of the unknown."

"The only thing I'm scared of is losing David." I froze looking back to Dean, who averted my gaze. "I have to see him again." Molly's voice registered determination. "I have to."

Molly paced in a room over from us, looking through a photo album while Dean and I stood out of earshot. I watched Molly silently, my heart truly going out to her. "I think we should tell her about her husband."

"We can't," Dean said flatly, not bothering to make eye contact with me.

"Dean, it's cruel lettin' her pine for him like this," I replied in a low tone. "I don't like keepin' her in the dark."

"It's for her own good," Dean replied, standing up from the couch as I chewed on my bottom lip. "Abs, I know you feel guilty, all right?" His voice softened, taking a few steps toward me and took my face in his hands. I let out a sigh, clasping my hands over his, then bowed my head. We stood in silence. Dean pressed his lips to my forehead.

"This job has me so fucked up," I muttered.

"I know," came his reply.

I swallowed a lump in my throat. "I thought this was goin' to be a cakewalk, like old times, you know?" I met Dean's understanding gaze, a knot began to form in my throat. "I'm nothin' like I used to be."

Dean moved his hands to my shoulders where he pulled me against him. "Ah, don't say that," I felt his arms tighten around my body, pressing his forehead against mine. "You just have some extras that you need to figure out."

"I keep gettin' these flashbacks of Greeley and his wife, Dean," I furrowed my brows against his. "I saw _everythin'_ that happened to her." Judging by Dean's concerned expression, he knew I was talking about Greeley's wife. A tear ran down my cheek. "I couldn't just let her stay there…"

Dean's arms tightened around me. "Hey, we got her taken care of, right?" I slowly nodded, knowing that Dean was just trying to get me level-headed. I was beginning to lose my shit, if I hadn't already. "Look, let's just stick to the plan, all right? Let's get her out of here, then we'll tell her."

"Tell me what?" Molly's voice asked from behind Dean, causing us to step apart. My brows knitted seeing her glance at us. "What aren't you telling me?" Silence fell, until she clenched her jaw. "It's about David—you know what happened to him."

"Molly—" I began, ready to spill my guts out.

Dean gave me a warning look. "Abigail, don't."

"Don't what?" Molly reiterated. "Don't tell me because I'll mess up your hunt? You don't care about me or my husband."

I shook my head. "That's not true."

"Really? Then whatever it is, tell me, please." I hesitated, glancing to Dean. He knew I wanted to tell Molly about everything, until the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I turned my head towards a wall. The first few chords of _House of the Rising Sun_ began to play from the other side, sparing us the conversation that Dean didn't want to have.

"He's coming," Molly whispered, taking a step back, frightened.

Dean glanced to me. "Stay with her." I nodded, moving beside her as Dean moved cautiously into the other room. I kept a close eye on Molly, glancing to each dark corner of the room we were in. Molly moved near a window, a little too close to it, in fact.

"Molly, could you get away from the window?"

Molly's brows knitted with confusion. "What?"

I offered her a wry smile. "It's just—it's a habit, I don't like anyone bein' near a window." Molly mouthed 'oh' until a figure crashed through the window behind her, grabbing her. By the time I had time to register what was happening, Molly screamed as she was drug outside; Dean running back into the room shortly before I was moving for the window.

"He's got Molly!" I yelled back, leaping through it and chased him through the woods with Dean on my heels. We sprinted as far as we could get until we hit a clearing, drawing our chase to a dead end. I kicked a branch. "Son of a bitch!" Dean and I looked around the clearing, shining our flashlights in search of some kind of clue. I took off my beanie, raking my nails through my hair before putting it back on.

"This guy is persistent," Dean commented as we headed back to the house.

"We gotta find her," I climbed the stairs, returning to one of the rooms Molly and I had looked in. Dean stepped in behind me as I tore through the room, searching through photo album. I sunk down onto a bed, flipping through each page, my eyes flicking to each photograph and memento with a purpose on finding something useful.

"We gotta find Greeley's bones, and uh, no pressure or anything, but we got less than two hours before sunrise," Dean commented, becoming very aware of the sky beginning to lighten up.

I paused on a page. "Hey."

Dean moved over to me, sinking down beside me. "What do you got?"

I ran my finger along the caption on a photograph. "_'February 6, 1992.'_"

"That was like two weeks before the accident, wasn't it?" he asked, looking to me.

I nodded, scratching at the dried blood on my upper lip. "Yeah. I mean, it looks like the huntin' cabin, but... I swear there's a tree there right where they're standin'." I mentally kicked myself, meeting Dean's confused look. "I should've thought of it."

"What?"

"It's an old country custom, Dean," I began. "Plantin' a tree as a grave marker, Charlie planted four of 'em back at the house. God, I'm an idiot."

Dean placed a hand on my shoulder. "No, you're like a walking encyclopedia of weirdness."

I tilted my head. "Yeah. I know. No thanks to Sam." I snapped the album shut, tossing it onto the bed. "C'mon."

* * *

_**Four years ago**_

_**Warehouse—Night**_

_**Steamboat Springs, Colorado**_

_**December 15**__**th**__**, 2002**_

"_I don't understand what the deal is, Dean," I argued, standing outside of the Impala as Dean finished up applying the surgical tape to my side._

_Dean straightened up with a scowl marring his features, "Uh, the fact that you could've died is what my deal is! Christ, Abigail!" He threw down a bloody rag, which landed onto the ground with an unceremonious plop._

"_But it's okay for you to act like the hero?" I snapped, shoving my shirt back down and pulled my jacket together. "I don't think so!" Dean wasn't in any better shape either. Four deep cuts ran parallel above his left eye, a cut underneath his right, and not to mention a busted nose and lip. His jaw remained set, his eyes retaining a dark and faraway expression as I shook my head at him._

"_I do more because I'm oldest!" he shot back, earning a cynical scoff from me, "and I'm more than capable!"_

_I blinked at him, gob smacked that Dean even _dared_ to say that to me, of all people. "Like I'm not?"_

_"Damn right!" he snorted. "That bastard almost got the best of you, and we lost one of them! If you want to be any kind of hunter, you need to focus more, and not get your ass handed to you by a mutt."_

_I huffed, "I think of this," gesturing to my wounded side, "as a wound I'll wear with pride. And come to think of it," I added, "whenever you, Sam, or Dad get hurt from a hunt, you guys pat each other on the back and drink to it." Dean's eyes flew to the overcast sky. "But if it's me, you act the same way Dad yells at Sam."_

_"Yeah, well I'm not the one that encouraged him to go to Stanford and have dad riding our asses for it," he said coolly. We stood in silence. Dean's coat of many colors finally came into light, showing me that he was truly an arrogant prick! I didn't know if I was shocked or hurt. He actually blamed me for Sam leaving that night. I stared at Dean silently. _

_The guy I _thought_ that had my back—and supposedly cared about me on more planes than just platonic—blamed me for all of this. I had decided then and there, I wasn't going to put up with his arrogant bullshit._

"_Go fuck yourself, Dean," I spat out, turning on my heel and began walking._

"_Where the hell are you going?" I heard him call out from behind me. I threw my hands up, wincing as I did so, remembering painfully that I wasn't one hundred percent. "It's cold out here!"_

"_So's Antarctica!" I shouted in turn, walking until I didn't see him or the Impala behind me. I glanced up at the overcast sky taking note of the flurries that came down daintily, knowing that this was just the beginning of the impending blizzard. I wrapped my arms around myself to try and keep in some heat. However, a set of tracks caught my attention. _

_Small, red dots tracked alongside them, veering off into the woods._

_I bit my lip, turning to look back in the direction of the warehouse. Dean had yet to come barreling down the road in search of me, which wasn't new. Sleeping on the couch wasn't going to be an issue, although the thought _did_ cross my mind. He wants a hunter, he was going to get one. I took out my weapon and a flashlight, checking on how many rounds I was left with—three. _

_I shook my head, glancingto the sky once again. "If anyone's up there listenin'… watch over me." I blew out a shaky breath, taking off into the woods in search of the wounded werewolf._

* * *

_**Present Day**_

_**Cabin—Night**_

Dean and I ran to the hunter's cabin with shovels in tow, hearing Molly's screams from inside.

I nodded to the cabin. "Go get Molly." Dean's brows twitched, almost confused that I didn't try to go in there with him. With a curt nod, he gave me a swift kiss on the lips before he headed inside, a shotgun blast sounding seconds later. I glanced up to the overcast sky. "If anyone up there can hear me, help would be nice."

I stuck the head of the shovel into the ground, beginning to dig. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard a loud crash coming from inside the cabin, hissing out from my back suddenly hurting. "Shit," I continued to dig in a feverish manner, struggling to make haste until I hit something hard.

Looking down, it was bones.

"Hurry up, Abs!" I heard Dean call out as I climbed out of the grave, plundering through the bag Dean had left behind, grabbing up a box of salt. Dumping the entire container into the grave, I moved back over to the bag where I picked up a container of gasoline, dumping its contents into it as well. Breathing heavily, I dug into my jacket, taking out a small box of matches where I lit one, dropping it in.

* * *

_**Four years ago**_

_**Forest—Night**_

_**Steamboat Springs, Colorado**_

_**December 15**__**th**__**, 2002**_

_Flakes pelted against my face, clinging to my eyelashes and hair. The pain in my hands and feet had grew from an aggravating numbness to straight up pain. Having tracked the blood trail a good sum into the forest, turning back wasn't even possible since the blizzard was minutes away from bearing down on my position. However, where I was at was a chore all on itself trying to break through hip deep snow drifts._

_Through the cold, the hairs on my arms and neck stood up._

_I stopped, breathing heavily, as I shone my flashlight through the dark forest. Visibility was less than ten feet. A shiver wracked through my body the longer I stood exposed to the snow and wind._

_That was until I got knocked off my feet; a blood curdling snarl echoing in my ears. I looked up, meeting eye to eye to the wounded werewolf that had escaped from the warehouse. "You couldn't just leave me alone, could you, hunter?" He made a fist, sending it straight into my face, where blood splattered across the snow covered ground. "By the time this storm passes," his fist came down again, "your friend isn't going to find you until next spring!"_

_A strangled sound left my mouth that seemed like a tossup of gargling and laughing._

_He paused._

_I spluttered out blood, grinning arrogantly. "I should say the same."_

_His brows furrowed at my words until I snaked my blade out from the inside of my jacket sleeve, stabbing it into his throat. Blood gushed from the wound after I twisted it and pulled the blade out with a suctioning sound. The werewolf convulsed onto the ground beside me, clawing at his neck for a good minute or so until the gargling and convulsions ceased. I laid on the cold ground, staring up into the sky in a daze. _

_I couldn't exactly distinguish if I was just exhausted physically, or mentally, or if it was just the fact that I was hurt. I couldn't find any strength to get up and search for some kind of shelter. Snow had packed itself in between my gloves, pants, and boots making my skin burn from being cold._

_Some hunter I am, I thought ruefully, letting out a cynical laugh._

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_What the hell did I just do? _

_The anger that had churned in my stomach subsided into nauseating dread when I realized that Abigail wasn't coming back. I got back into the Impala, heading the down the road in search of her. There was no way she needed to take off right before this blizzard that was about to come down on us. Coming back up the road at a slow place, I scanned the projected area that Abigail could've went. _

_My eyes flitted from the road to the sky, then to the sides of the road. Snow had started to fall once again, turning my dread into straight up fear. Something miniscule had caught my eyes. Had it not been for the never ending bitching and training by Steven and Dad, I wouldn't have caught it._

_A blood trail._

_Stomping my foot on the brake, the car slid another fifteen feet from the ice before I threw the car up in park, then got out with a flashlight and pistol in tow. The wind around me had picked up, along with the falling snow when I halted at the edge of the woods, glancing to the blood trail and back behind me._

"_Abigail!" I yelled out, knowing I shouldn't give my position away. To hell with the rules. Gripping my coat around me, I followed the trail until the snow had covered it. That's when I flipped shit. My fist collided with the nearest tree, only for me to shake my hand moments later, "Fuck me!" I shone my light around me, "Abigail!"_

_Visibility had shrunken down to less than ten feet. _

"_Christ," I mumbled to myself, pressing on into the beginnings of this blizzard. Searching for Abigail in this weather was almost impossible, had it not been for the smell of wood burning. I'm not going to lie when I say my heart leapt into my throat, hope surging through me, but that had to be pushed down thinking that this could be the happenings of this wounded werewolf. _

_Perhaps this was his camp. I didn't know._

_Getting closer, I sniffed out the source of this smell when I came to an old hunter's cabin. Approaching it with caution, I moved to the window peering into the cabin not seeing anything in there. That's when I moved to the door, pushing it open, and entered with my gun drawn. _

"_Abs?" I called out, "Abs, you in here?" Fear knotted my stomach upon taking in the sight of blood and bandages. It subsided to an extent when I realized that this place was empty. Abigail wasn't here, but this werewolf had been._

_Taking note of the wind howling outside, it wasn't best to go out and look for Abigail. Maybe I was stupid, maybe I'm just straight up ignorant…I needed to get Abigail out of this weather. I made a mental note of this cabin, knowing where I would come back to should I find her okay or hurt. _

_This was shelter._

_The wind screamed through the trees and snow pelted my face like icy needles as I pushed on, "Abigail!" I yelled out as loud as I could muster over the intensity of the wind. For what seemed like hours, knowing it had been minutes, I finally came to a halt, squinting my eyes in order to focus on the scene in front of me._

_Two bodies in the snow. _

_One being the werewolf, who was dead._

_The other, Abigail._

"_Abs?" I rushed over to her, checking her vitals. They were incredibly weak. Abigail was mumbling incoherently before she burst out laughing. She was delirious from the cold, "Abigail, you need to focus on me, okay? I'm here."_

_As quickly as she started laughing, she fell silent, shaking her head stiffly, "No." I barely caught._

_I furrowed my brows at her, "You need to get through this."_

"_I don't want to," She mumbled, "I can't." _

_I touched my trembling hands to her face, "You _can_," I told her, noticing the hitch in my voice "Abs, you gotta make it. Do it for me, please." _

_Confusion graced her features, followed by a torn expression, "Dad, I don't want to. I want to be with you."_

* * *

_**Early Morning**_

_**David McNamara's Home**_

Dean pulled up in front of David McNamara's home. The lights were on inside. Molly leaned into the window, peering out at the house as I sat beside her.

"He's in that house, right there." I pointed out the house for her.

"I don't understand," Molly began, shaking her head slowly.

I held a tight-lipped expression. "You will." We got out, Dean and I remaining back as Molly approached the window, seeing David inside. He had aged. Donning a bathrobe, he was oblivious to Molly as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"That's ... not ... It can't be." Molly fumbled her words as Dean's arm found its way around my waist. We both shared a solemn expression, watching Molly face the harsh reality of her death. From where we stood, we could watch the scene unfold as another woman showed up, wearing a bathrobe as well, and came up to David, kissing him on the lips. Molly's eye widened to the size of dinner plates. "What's happening?" She turned to us,. "Who is that?"

"That's David's wife," I told her in a gentle voice. Molly turned around to look at the house again, then back to Dean and I. "I'm sorry, Molly. Fifteen years ago, you and your husband hit Jonah Greeley with your car. David survived."

Molly narrowed her eyes at us. "What are you saying?"

"We're saying there isn't just one spirit haunting Highway forty-one," Dean explained. "There are two. Jonah Greeley and you."

"For the past 15 years, one night a year you've been appearin' on that highway," I told her, seeing her eyes widen with disbelief.

"No, that's not possible," Molly tried to argue. "It was our anniversary ... February 22nd…"

"1992," I finished for her. Molly nodded her head slowly, seeming perturbed that I would know such a personal date. "Yes."

"Molly, it's 2007," Dean told her, seeing her face pale at the news.

Molly shook her head. "Oh, god."

"Some spirits only see what they want. They…hold on too tight and can't let go," I explained.

"And Greeley?" Molly asked.

"Each year he punishes somebody for his death... ah, chasin' them—torturin' them." I elaborated in the most ethical and sensitive way I could. "And each year, that somebody is you."

Molly shook her head, confused, no doubt. "But I don't remember any of it."

"Because you couldn't see the truth, Molly," I told her in a sympathetic voice.

"So that's why he won't let me off the highway," she breathed out. "Because... I killed him—I killed us both." Molly sat on the steps of David's house, reeling from the truth. "Why didn't you tell me when you first saw me?" she asked us, looking up through tear soaked lashes. "Why wait until now?"

Dean and I shared a look. "You wouldn't have believed us," Dean replied, stating the truth. I wasn't going to argue.

Molly gave Dean an accusing look. "And you needed me for bait."

"Well, we needed you," I added, earning a look from Molly as well until she looked back to the house.

"David," Molly whispered his name in remorse, absolutely stricken. My heart went out to her. I took a step towards her, lowering myself beside her catching the cautious look from Dean, taking her hand in mine.

"Molly, we brought you here so you could move on," I told her gently, knowing that trying to reason with her wasn't going to be an easy task…at least, not at this second.

She began shaking her head. "I have to tell him—"

"Tell him what?" I asked her. "That you love him? That you're sorry?" Molly stared at me with tears in her eyes. I offered her a gentle smile as I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Molly, he already knows that." I glanced at Dean, then to Molly. "Look, if you want to go in there, we're not gonna stop you."

"Yeah, but you are gonna freak him right out," Dean added. "For life."

Molly turned her head back to me. "David's already said his goodbyes, Molly. Now it's your turn," I urged. "This is your unfinished business."

"What am I supposed to do?" she whispered.

"Just... let go," I told her. "Of David. Of everythin'." I licked my lips, feeling the bite of the cold. "You do that... we think you'll move on."

At this point, Molly had begun crying. "But you don't know where," she pointed out, letting out a small sob.

"No," I replied thoughtfully. "But Molly, you don't belong here." I wiped away her tears as she sniffled.

"What would you do in this situation, Abigail?" she asked in a soft tone.

I blinked, thrown off by her question. I glanced at Dean, who was watching us carefully…more or less interested in what I had to say. "As in…if I were in your shoes?" Molly nodded. I licked my lips, thinking back to the coma and the incident back at Bobby's. "If I was in your shoes, Molly, I would want Dean to be able to move on. As bad as it would hurt, that's what I would want for him and our daughter."

I felt my chest tighten with remorse from Dean.

He let out a scoff, shifting in his place as he shoved his hands into his pockets, and turned his attention elsewhere—apparently, it was something he didn't want to hear.

"Which would be what _he_ would want if it were him," I added, catching Dean looking at me from the corner of his eye. That was something he would want, hands down, and from the painful clench of my chest again, I had hit the nail on the head.

Molly nodded sadly, rising to her feet. She took a few steps away from the house, then turned back to Dean and I, looking from him to me. "Can you do me one more thing?" she asked, earning an inquisitive look from Dean as I got to my feet, standing by him.

"Depends," Dean answered. "What is it?"

"You love her, right?" She asked him, gesturing towards me.

Dean stared at me for a long moment in silence, wrapping an arm around my waist when he looked to Molly. "More than anything," he replied truthfully.

"And you?" she asked me.

"More than humanly possible," I told her.

Molly nodded, thinking of her last words. "No matter what life brings to you two…don't let it be your downfall. You have a baby girl who needs her parents," Molly then added. "She deserves to grow up with the both of you, and…love each other like it's your last days on Earth." Dean and I were silent. "Can you do that for me?"

Dean turned his head to look at me fully, her words sinking in. "Yeah."

I nodded, smiling softly to Dean. "Yeah."

As the first light of dawn crept over the rooftops, we turned our heads to look at Molly, who had become a part of the light itself, vanishing shortly after. For the moment, things were peaceful. Calm.

Dean held me closer to his side, "I guess she wasn't so bad... for a ghost." He peered down at me. "You think she's really going to a better place?"

I shrugged, leaning my head against his shoulder. "I hope so."

"I guess we'll never know," he said with a shrug. "Not until we take the plunge ourselves, huh?"

I found myself frowning at the way he worded that. "Doesn't really matter, Dean," I replied, gazing at the spot where Molly once stood. "Hope's kind of the whole point."

"All right, Haley Joel." I rolled my eyes at his quip, tilting my head up to reply when he captured my lips with his, placing a gentle hand on my cheek. He broke away, staring at me almost in a new light. "You're right, you know."

I furrowed my brows, confused.

"What about?" I asked, covering his hand with mine.

"When Molly asked what you would do," he replied. "You're right. I would want you to be able to move on."

"But could you?" I questioned, seeing a pained expression flicker in his eyes.

Dean fell silent, stroking the side of my face with the pad of his thumb with another expression taking place; concentration. It was like he was memorizing the details of my face like it was the first time him seeing me or the last.

It bothered me to an extent.

"Dean…" I began. "Could you?"

Dean swallowed, slowly shaking his head no. "I don't have an answer for that, Abs."

I licked my lips. "You _can't_ or _won't_?" I asked.

"Won't," he stated, and I shook my head, stepping away from him.

"Why? Why do _you_ think that if somethin' ever happened to you, I'll be able to get over you, just like that?" I snapped my fingers in emphasis of my statement. "Then with me, you don't have an _answer_?"

Dean rolled his eyes at me, which ignited a fire in my gut. "I swear Dean if you roll your eyes one more time…" I cut off my own sentence, pinching the bridge of my nose as I grew irritated at an alarming rate, then let out a loud sigh. "I am too tired for this," I stated.

I shook my head at Dean, refusing to say another word to him as I brushed past him to go to the Impala. He turned, watching me leave him behind. "Where are you going?" I heard him ask.

"I'm goin' to the Impala, where I'm goin' to sleep before headin' back to the motel room, and dealin' with a teethin' six-month-old velociraptor." I didn't bother looking over my shoulder, sensing his amusement. I could've turned around and beaten him over the head with a club right then and there.

_Is he for real?!_ I screeched in my head, I was _more_ than ready to sleep and forget that the conversation we just had didn't exist.

"You're really going to go to sleep on me?" Dean called out.

"Yup!" I hollered back, popping the _p_.

"Sam let us have this night!" I heard him point out. When I didn't say anything, he let out a frustrated groan, his boots hitting the ground in a quick cadence to catch up with me. "Oh, c'mon!"

I stopped short, ready to tear him a new one. Not realizing how close Dean was close behind me, I nearly ate a piece of the car when he practically crashed into me. As a result of that, my jacket slid up causing me to yelp when part of my stomach touched the side of the Impala.

"Next time, warn me when you hit the brakes!" Dean griped.

"I didn't think you were _that_ close!" I shot back, shoving my jacket down over my stomach, then placed my hands on the cold hood. I then closed my eyes, bowing my head where I took a deep breath. "Why do you get to think that I can just move on if anythin' ever happened to you?"

"Because you can," he replied simply.

I bit my lip, shaking my head slowly. "Then so can you."

Dean leaned against the Impala beside me. "That's where you're wrong, Abs."

I looked at him from the corner of my eye. "How so?"

Dean lifted his shoulders, keeping a straight face. "I honestly couldn't make it if I didn't have you, Abs. I can't do the things you do," he shook his head with pursed lips. "Not by a mile." His eyes fell on me. "What you did back there with Molly? Never in a million years could I do that. And-and how you are with Sam and the baby? You're a natural!"

I tightened my jaw, refusing to look at Dean. I was already tearing up at his words.

"Look, you don't have to believe me, Abs." Dean licked his lips. "It's just…I'm not the same person when you're not around, and if anything ever happened to you—" He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before turning them to the sky, tears glittering in the light of the sunrise. "It's hard telling what kind of person I'd be, or what I'd even do."

I lifted my head, avoiding any kind of eye contact. "Is that why you wouldn't leave me be when I was in the coma? And back at Bobby's?" I asked, feeling my chest clench.

"I won't let you go that easily," he replied, looking over at me with a silent finality in his tone. "Not if I have anything to do with it." His fingertips brushed away a few tendrils of my hair out of my face, taking note of the stray tears running down my cheek.

His gaze softened, using his thumb to capture each tear and wiped them away as lightly as he could. "You know that everyone has that saying, _you can never love anyone until you love yourself first_?" He didn't give me a chance to answer. "Well, I call bullshit," he stated, "Because, I have _never_ loved myself…not once. But _you_?" Dean stared at me for a beat. "I love you _so much_, that I sometimes forget what hating myself feels like, and I'm okay with that." The corners of his mouth tipped up into a small smile, completely flooring me.

"Dean," I whispered out, becoming overwhelmed by the sensation of loathing. I felt horrible. More so that Dean had even felt this way. My heart broke seeing such a proud man stand before me so broken, even at the thought of losing _me_, of all people. If he had felt like this just with me, I could only imagine what it would be like if he ever lost Sam or Megan. For me personally, it was a stab in the gut. It was such a nauseating thought losing either boy or Megan; it was something I didn't want to think about.

Silence fell between us longer than what I liked, earning a sigh leave my lips. I turned, leaning against the Impala where Dean and I were staring back at David's house. "Dean, I'm not gonna argue anymore about any of us dyin' or who gets to keep who from lettin' go." I ran my fingers through my tangled hair. "I'm just gonna forget that this entire conversation didn't even happen."

Dean raised a brow, turning his head to look at me. "Like a do-over?"

I pursed my lips in thought. "Yeah," I nodded as my lips curved into a small smile. "Like a do-over." Dean's entire disposition sagged with relief. "You got any ideas?"

Dean turned to me grinning like a kid. "Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do."

* * *

_**Four years ago**_

_**Forest—Night**_

_**Steamboat Springs, Colorado**_

_**December 15**__**th**__**, 2002**_

"_Is she gonna be alright, doc?" Dean's voice cut through the shroud of darkness and drugs._

"_Abigail must be in good graces with the man upstairs, because she is a very lucky girl," Another voice replied. "She's being treated for the frostbite on her hands, feet, and nose, as well as being treated for severe hypothermia. Your partner should be dead at the state that she's arrived in."_

_There was a sharp intake of air. "That doesn't answer my question."_

"_Somehow, she's going to be make a full recovery." Silence filled the air, followed by a slow exhale of relief,. "However, she'll be sensitive to colder temperatures making the areas affected by the frostbite irritable, and likely hurt."_

_I felt the numbing pull of sleep drag me back into oblivion._

_Sometime later, I awoke with a groan, feeling a weight on top of me, and I was burning up! Forcing myself to open my eyes, I found myself in a dimly lit room and the sound of a heart monitor beeping smoothly in my ear. Lifting my hand to scratch my head, I winced, seeing IVs attached, then kicked my covers off of me._

"_Abs?" I stopped pushing the covers, looking up to see Dean standing at the door._

"_Um, hey," I greeted slowly. "Where am I?"_

_Dean sat a cup on a nearby counter, then pulled me against him. "Thank god…" I caught him murmur as a hand cradled the back of my head. "I thought I lost you."_

_I furrowed my brows at him. "What happened?"_

_Dean stepped back, staring at me almost livid at my question. "What the hell were you thinking going off by yourself? What did you think you'd achieve doing that?"_

_I frowned deeply. "I just thought—"_

"_Just thought what?" he spat out. "That you'd take on a wounded werewolf by yourself in a blizzard? You did a bang up job on that one, I'll have to add. What were you thinking?"_

"_I killed it, didn't I?" I snapped._

_Dean nodded, folding his arms across his chest. "Oh, yeah. It's dead, like you should be too." He shook his head. "You almost died, Abigail." I grimaced at the tone in his voice, "Again."_

"_If the first thing I was goin' to get when I woke up was to get railed, you shoulda left me," I muttered, seeing Dean's eyes glitter dangerously. "I'm not some kid, Dean."_

"_Obviously you need to be treated like one if you're not going to listen to what I say. What you did was stupid and dangerous."_

_I fell silent, averting my gaze to the floor so that Dean couldn't see the tears that were beginning to form in my eyes. I swallowed hard, taking the back of my hand to my face where I wiped them away. Dean let out a sigh, then grabbed the wad of blankets at the foot of the bed and pulled them up on me. "I don't want them."_

"_Too bad," he retorted. "Doc says you gotta keep them on you to keep you warm. Body heat and whatnot."_

"_I'm warm enough," I muttered. "Literally woke up sweatin'." Judging from the arched brow, he knew I was bullshitting him, then he shook his head and broke his bad guy façade, chuckling._

"_I know better than that, Colt." His hand clasped around mine for a moment. "You're lucky you still have hands, feet, and a nose. You had frost bite on them." _

_I raised my brows at him. "You're shittin' me."_

"_Nope. You're like the only one here that was frozen like a block of ice, and lived." I pulled a face, earning a withering look from him. "It's not funny, although you have a title to uphold now." I swatted Dean's shoulder. "But seriously, don't do that again, alright? I don't want to think about what would've happened, hadn't I been there. I can't lose you, Abs."_

_I fell silent until Dean's hand stroked my cheek in a softmanner, before he kissed me on the lips. "I won't," I whispered, pulling away then returned the kiss._

* * *

_**Present Day**_

I didn't know what to expect. Being blindfolded for the better half of thirty minutes had my senses on high alert. Every step I took made me think I was about to fall off a cliff or something, which _really_ put me on edge. The chill of the morning was accompanied by birds chirping and the occasional dull thumps of snow falling off the nearby evergreens.

"Can I look now?" I asked, taking a tentative step forward. The snow under my boots crunched as Dean lead me somewhere, his hands on my shoulders offering me some kind of stability.

"No," came his reply. "Not until we get there." I rolled my eyes at his words even though he couldn't see it. I was merely going off how careful he was acting in regard to me trying to catch onto what he was planning. To be honest, I was a little excited, yet worried because this was Dean Winchester. One second he was a total shithead, ready for a prank war, and another, he was a total sweetheart, carefully planning something totally un-Dean-like, and oftentimes took my breath away.

It was a toss-up, really.

I held onto his hands in a desperate way of keeping myself from falling, to which, I could _feel_ his amusement. "You're eatin' this up, aren't ya?" I questioned, listening to him chuckle from behind me.

"Oh, you know it," he replied, a smile in his words. "We're almost there."

"What is exactly _is_ there?" I asked, retaining my tentative gait until he applied a slight pressure on my shoulders, stopping me. Instinctively, my hands tightened around his in anticipation, allowing a flurry of amusement to swirl in my stomach like butterflies. Dean gently took his hands away from mine, making feel like I was alone. That sort of thrown me off guard, "Dean?" I called out, more or less, sounding like I was about to freak out.

"I'm still here," he replied, closer to me now since we stopped. "You ready?"

I swallowed. "Yeah." I felt him untie my blindfold, pulling it away from my eyes. I blinked a few times in a grimace, readjusting to the sudden brightness of the sun rising before I was able to focus on what I was brought to.

It was an old hunting cabin. One room at least. Cozy, no doubt. I smiled at it, turning to look at Dean from over my shoulder. He looked so proud of himself, tearing his gaze away from the cabin, to me.

"You like it?"

"Yeah." Dean's lips curved in a smile, one of those infuriating, trademark Dean Winchester smiles. Taking my hand in his, he gestured his head to follow him inside. Cozy was right, along with one room. It was actually more spacious than what I thought, offering a decent amount of floor to move around in. To beat it all, it was already warm from a fire.

Confused by it, I glanced at him with knitted brows. "How'd you—?"

Dean shrugged. "Remember when Sam and I went to ask around about those reports?" I nodded. "Well, I overheard someone saying that there was a hunting cabin up here somewhere that is always left unlocked." He tilted his head, licking his lips with a grin like the Cheshire cat/ "Talked Sam into watching Meg for a night or two; the place is ours." Dean shrugged off his jacket, setting it on the back of a chair haphazardly while I remained in my spot, taking in the cabin.

It was definitely taken care of. It didn't exactly have a musty smell to it; if anything, it had a small odor of stale cigarettes and beer. Nothing too offensive, in fact, it was actually comforting. There was a full sized bed in the far, right-hand corner of the room, neatly made with what seemed like a fresh quilt absent of pillows. I guess it was a BYOP kinda place, which was fine.

As soon as you walked in, the fireplace was an instant greeting with a three person table and chair set to my right, with a small kitchenette and surprisingly a small refrigerator to my left. All it had was the essentials, which was right up mine and Dean's alley.

Undoubtedly impressed at Dean's attempt to woo me, I looked to Dean with raised brows, "I must say, Winchester, you've outdone yourself." I mused, shrugging out of my own jacket, leaving me in a shirt and black leggings, when Dean turned to me with a smirk.

"Have I, Colt?" He queried, still shedding off his layers of shirts like some kind of lizard, the amulet that hung from his neck glimmering in the light of the fire as he moved around. I hummed in response, resting a hand on the table to peel off my boots before crossing over to set them near the fireplace in order to dry out and warm my freezing hands up. Something caught my eye that made me fully turn to look at it—a large bag of marshmallows, with a hole already in it.

"Marshmallows?" I asked in a flat tone, earning another boyish grin from Dean. "And it looks like a mouse has already been into it."

Dean chuckled approaching me. "Well, in the mouse's defense, he was pretty hungry." I pursed my lips in amusement when he stopped in front of me. "They were pretty good, too," he added with a toothy smile, wrapping his arms loosely around my waist before he almost jumped, remembering something. "Oh shit, I forgot." I watched him out of curiosity when he moved over to the bed, pulling out an outdated eight track player from under it, along with a box of eight tracks. "Look at these babies!"

He waved me over to come look at them.

I chuckled softly, watching this man get excited over some old eight tracks. Of course, he had a reason to be. "Damn." I commented, picking up a couple of them from the box. "Elvis? Merle Haggard? George Jones? Johnny Cash?" I nudged him in the side with a smile. "Whoever was here has good taste."

"Even better," he held up one that was _Led Zeppelin_ and a few others. Dean looked like a kid opening up presents on Christmas Day, plucking up the Elvis cassette and popped it in. It took it a second to get started as the first few chords of _All Shook Up_ began. I nearly snorted with laughter when Dean began to gyrate his hips in an exaggerated manner whilst snapping his fingers to the beat of it. "_A well'a bless my soul, what'sa wrong with me?_ _I'm itchin' like a man in a fuzzy tree._ _My friends say I'm actin' wild as a bug. I'm in love,"_ he belted out. "_I'm all shook up_!"

I laughed when Dean pulled me against him, grinning from ear to ear as we danced across the floor. Dean spun me around and dipped me to the floor like we were on American Bandstand, completely lost in the moment. The all-around atmosphere in this cabin was just so…enjoyable; if that could even be the correct word; it was something that Dean and I hadn't felt in quite some time. By the end of the song, the both of us were laughing at each other like it had been the first time we'd ever danced.

However, when the first chords of _Can't Help Falling In Love_ began, the both of us had stepped in closer until our bodies were touching. Dean's hands rested comfortably on my hips, while I wrapped my arms loosely around his shoulders. "Why do we never do this?" Dean asked me, touching his forehead against mine.

"Dance?" he nodded minutely. I hefted my shoulders in a shrug. "I dunno, too proud to do it in front of Sam, I guess." Dean thought about it for a moment, his expression ranging from thoughtful to one that said, _yeah, you're right_, before he pulled me closer to him—if that was even possible. "Although, I do remember us dancin' at that club when I was still pregnant with Megan," I mused, laying my head against his shoulder, running my fingers through his hair in slow ministrations; a warm sensation pooling in my stomach when his arms wrapped around my waist tighter.

"I can't imagine my life without you in it, Abigail," I heard Dean say in a low voice. Raising my head off his shoulder, I made it so that we were cheek to cheek, smiling to myself as the song played on.

"You know, despite what we've been through," I began, stroking the back of Dean's head. "I wouldn't trade it or turn back time…not by a mile," Dean pulled away from me, studying my face in a calculating gaze, and with that, he kissed me on the lips, placing a hand against my cheek. This kiss was as tender as his touch. His hands held me like I was about to break at any moment, allowing myself to melt like butter under his touch. This tenderness brought from him was another sight that I hadn't seen in quite a while, at least a few months. I was nearly thrown off by it because I was so used to seeing Dean stay in hunter-mode, save for the quiet moments he had reserved for Megan.

He lifted me up easily, allowing me to wrap my legs around his waist as he carried me over to the bed and carefully laid me down; my hair fanning around my head like a halo. Lust burned in my veins like a drink of moonshine, mirroring the look in his eyes as he lowered himself on me and pressed another kiss to my lips.

It was just a slow and tender as it was the first time, his hands sliding under my shirt and pushed it up my body. We parted long enough for me to take my shirt off, falling to the ground like a forgotten memory. I slid my hands under the hem of his shirt, pushing it up until he grabbed the back of it, pulling it over his head and tossed it where it fell onto ground beside mine. I found his lips once again as things began to grow more heated, each movement more urgent as the next; yet the kiss remained the same—tender.

My fingers found his belt buckle, making quick work of it before unbuttoning them. Dean helped me pull them off his body, leaving him in underwear. His hands found the top of my leggings, pulling them off easily as he continued to press tender kisses to the inside of my leg. I squirmed underneath it, sensing his amusement when he smirked, allowing my leggings to join with his jeans. The chill from the draft that came through the window rose goosebumps across my body. The flame that had been building up in my stomach grew as he trailed more kisses up my stomach. The slow drag of the amulet that hung from his neck left a wave of heat behind it as he pressed hot, wet kisses along my chest and up my neck as he reached around my body, swiftly removing my bra; exposing my breasts.

The only sounds one could hear over Elvis playing was my ragged, inconsistent breaths when Dean began his venture back down my body again. His mouth dragging against my skin from the crook of my neck, then to the valley of my breast where his hands began to massage the soft skin momentarily until he removed one of his hands, replacing it with his mouth.

A loud moan managed to escape from my lips, arching my body in an attempt to get closer to him. I wanted him against me. I needed him like a fish needed water. When a low, rumbling sound emitted from him and the hardening of his member, the feeling was mutual. With an audible pop, he then switched his attention to the other breast, giving it the same attention with his mouth. I hooked my leg around his waist, feeling his hand leave my breast and ran it along my thigh, hooking his fingers under the hem of my underwear. Tugging at it, I lifted my hips up, feeling the thin fabric slip over my buttocks before I squirmed under Dean grazing his teeth against my nipple. And by squirmed, I mean rolling my eyes to the back of my head and moaning like some nympho.

Dean's mouth left my breast long enough to pull my underwear off, tossing it haphazardly while I mirrored his movements, tugging his underwear down to his knees. There was a sense of urgency within in his movements as he kicked his off, then captured my lips with his, pressing his hips against mine with another rumbling sound emitting from within his chest. Every part of me was alive with electricity, and I could've _sworn_ lightning had flashed in the window. I wanted his skin against mine and envelope me whole like a wildfire; devastatingly beautiful.

Dean broke the kiss, eyes like molten whiskey in the light of the fireplace. His eyes didn't flicker to the side, or above my head; they remained focused on me like there was nothing in this world that could take them off of me. I was his priority. Reaching his hand down, he grasped himself and directed himself into my core; our chests heaving. A wave of electricity and fire followed behind his hand as it traveled back up my side in the moment he gave me to adjust to him before he started to roll his hips against mine. I pulled him closer to me, pressing my forehead against his shoulder as I fought with myself to catch my breath.

It was a steady pace that allowed us to feel our bodies move against each other. _In and out_. It was something that slowly inched myself closer to heaven, and it wasn't like he was rough.

There was no teasing, no playing until I was just a puddle of dizzying emotions, it was so much more than that.

The one thing Dean thought he couldn't express himself through words; he made up for it on more than one level. This wasn't _just_ sex. No, not by a mile—it was love. It was a build-up of emotions that had been pushed aside and stowed away in such a selfish manner. All too soon, I felt myself climb to the peak of this mountain, letting Dean know through a series of quickened gasps.

Obliging this, he continued to kiss my neck, chest, and face as he continued to fill me until my mind was racing with these emotions. As tender as he'd been with me, I grew frantic—scared even—when I had reached my limit. I choked out his name as tears filled my eyes, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him against me, and moments later, Dean came right behind me.

Dean pressed his head against mine, allowing his guard to completely fall the same time tears of his own slipped down his face. He gathered me in his arms as he fell onto the bed beside me, pulling me close as I wept against his chest; wrapping my arms around his middle like I was clinging for life just as his tightened around my waist. I don't think either of us felt anything as strong as this, because it was so sudden, like a shot in the ass or something.

As close as we have been, it felt like it had been multiplied tenfold. This moment right here was so intimate—_so real—_so full of emotion, that the both of us knew that if one of us had left or worse, it would be earth-shattering.

Dean Winchester would always plague my mind, my dreams, my very being; just as I would plague his.

Except, it didn't feel like a plague. Not one bit.

Dean pulled my face up to his and kissed me again. The only thing I felt was nothing but love radiate from him. He then pulled away. "I love you, Abs," he whispered, running the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip, gazing at me like I was the sun.

I met his gaze with a smile. "I love you too, Dean."

If Dean looked at me like I was the sun, then he was the moon, and neither could shine without the other.

* * *

**A/N: Hi everyone. I just wanted to apologize for my absence for the last couple of months. Anything and everything has been going on with me in my personal life to where writing has been pretty non-existent for me. However, we do have ****another chapter down in the books! _Roadkill _so far has been my favorite chapter to write because it brings a lot of things to light. I think in a way, it shows Abigail's softer side towards things and in another, it shows how Dean is as both a hunter and Abigail's fiance.**

**I really hope y'all enjoyed this chapter, considering how long it's taken me to get it out, and again, I'm so sorry for it.**

**I'd also like to give credit, where credit is due. First and foremost, the _Supernatural_ franchise. Without this show, this story couldn't be made possible. Secondly, I want to give credit to my lovely friend, _Ladysunshine6_ who has been more than just a friend to me. Lastly, I want to thank _SkyQueen1111_ for being my beta reader. I can't thank you enough for being a reader and a beta reader! You and _Ladysunshine6_ mean a lot to me!**

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**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me or you can get a hold of me via Tumblr! I love receivingfan-mail for all three!**

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**Song for this chapter: _House of the Rising Sun_ by The Animals**

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**grapejuice101-Thank you! Glad you liked it!**

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	22. Heart

_I know nothing of your kind_

_And I won't reveal your evil mind_

_Is it over yet_

_I can't wait_

_So sacrifice yourself_

_And let me have what's left_

_I know that I can find_

_The fire in your eyes_

* * *

**WARNING:** There is smut in this chapter. If you don't like it, then please skip. (:

* * *

_**Sam's Point of View**_

_**City Morgue**_

_**San Francisco, California**_

"Here he is, Detective." The mortician opened the metal door to the refrigeration unit, sliding out the metal table that contained the newest victim of an attack. My eyes fell to the stitches that ran along the victim's chest, stomach, shoulders, and throat, grimacing at the amount of damage done to this individual.

"That's a pretty nasty bite," I commented, grimacing slightly at the sight before me. The mortician nodded, humming in agreement, "You know what bit him?"

"I haven't quite determined that just yet." She replied, averting her eyes. She knew something but wasn't going to incline herself to reveal what it was.

"Come on, Doc. Off the record." I urged in a gentle voice.

Moments passed briefly as the mortician held her mouth in a thin line, mulling my request over, then finally broke, "Okay, way, way off the record ..."

I smiled at her, nodding, "Sure."

She looked me in the eyes, hefting a sigh as she spoke, "If I didn't know better, I'd say the guy was attacked by a wolf. But unless I know that the zoo is missing one of their lobos, I'm going with a pit bull." She gave me a curt look, "I like my job."

"Yeah," I chuckled, "I hear you. One more thing." I added, "This guy –- was his heart missing?"

The mortician looked at me with a wary expression crossing her face, "Yeah, how did you know that?" She questioned, "I haven't even finished my report."

"Lucky guess." I shrugged, smiling sheepishly to the woman, "I should get going," I told her, "Thank you for your time." The woman nodded, pushing the table back into the refrigeration unit as I turned to make my leave. Heading back to the Impala, I slide into the driver's seat, turning the keys to ignite the engine. Dean and Abigail sat this trip out, allowing me time to drive, which didn't come around every day.

Like I was going to decline.

Every bit of this had werewolf wrote all over it, which meant Dean was going to have a field day.

Upon pulling into the motel, I got out and approached our room where I heard my nieces excited babbles and a cackle following suit. It was one thing I loved to hear, especially coming back from a sight like at the morgue. Unlocking the door, I stepped through seeing Abigail lying beside Megan on my bed grinning ear to ear as Megan kicked out wildly, while Dean sat on theirs with all of our weapons laying in order, watching them.

"Hey guys," I greeted them, loosening up my tie, and shrugged out of my blazer, laying it on the back of a chair.

"Hey," Abigail chirped, then helped Megan sit up to see me, "Tell Uncle Sammy, hi."

Megan blew bubbles, creating a double chin as she made raspberries, smacking her legs.

"This lawyer guy the first heart-free corpse in town?" Dean asked as I picked my niece up, kissing her softly on her temple.

"First man," I replied, "Over the past year, several women have gone missing. Dead bodies all washed up later in the bay, too deteriorated to draw firm conclusions."

"But no hearts?" My brother iterated.

I nodded in confirmation, "No hearts. They were all hookers working Hunter's Point." I added, "Now, cops are trying to keep things under wrap, but they're looking for a serial killer."

Abigail, at this point, had sat up on the bed cross-legged, "And the lunar cycle?" She asked.

"Mm-hmm. Yeah, month after month, all the murders happen in the week leading up to the full moon." I answered, cringing when Megan's fist wrapped around a piece of my hair, pulling it, "Ow, hey!"

"Which is this week, right?" Dean asked with a smug expression watching as I untangled Megan's hand from my hair.

"Hence the lawyer." I nodded minutely.

A grin spread across Dean's face, "Awesome."

Abigail rolled her eyes, turning her head to look at Dean, "Dean, could you be a bigger geek about this?"

"I'm sorry, Mama Bear, but what about "a human by day, a freak animal killing machine by moonlight" don't you understand?" He jested with a childlike grin, " I mean, werewolves are badass. We haven't seen one in years."

Abigail's face fell slightly, "Yeah, but, that was back in Colorado, which really wasn't that long ago." Dean pursed his lips at her as if he had bit into a lemon.

"Okay, Sparky." I stepped in, "And you know what? After we kill it, we can go to Disneyland."

Dean gave her a look, to which it changed back to his geeky grin, "You know what the best part about it is? We already know how to bring these suckers down." He held up a silver bullet, "One of these bad boys right to the heart. So, what's our next move?"

"Talk to the girl who found the body," I suggested with a shrug.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Madison's Apartment**_

"I don't understand," Madison shook her head, undoubtedly confused, "I already gave my statement." She stated as she led us through her surprisingly large apartment. Upon looking at this girl, I deduced she wasn't bad looking. Madison had large round eyes, like a doe, long, straight hair, and a curvaceous body that was accentuated by a tight looking shirt that clung to her in the right places. Personally, she wasn't what I was into, but nonetheless, she was a pretty girl.

Sam cleared his throat, bringing me back from my thoughts, "Right, well, we just need to verify a few things."

Madison gave him a slight nod, before turning to a bearded man wearing a _Mission Church _shirt as he stood up, "This is my neighbor, Glen. Glen, this is Detective…"

"Landis." I replied, "And Detective Dante." I patted Sam on the back.

Glen appeared uncomfortable at our presence, "Well, I guess I'll leave you to it." I rolled my eyes at look this guy gave her. I mean, the fact this guy was head over heels for the girl was so evident, it could've walked up and bitten her in the ass. It was pathetically sweet, as Abigail would have put it.

"Okay." Madison told him with a smile, "Thanks for the casserole."

"Oh, how thoughtful," I commented with a grin just as Sam nudged me in the ribs, earning a look from him.

"Just call if you need anything." Glen turned back to Madison, then left.

Madison turned to us with a small smile, "He's sweet. He came over to check on me." She explained, then motioned to the kitchen table, "Have – have a seat."

"You must be pretty shaken up," Sam began sympathetically, as Madison simply gave him a small smile before turning her gaze to her clasped hands, "You were Nate Mulligan's assistant, right?"

"For two years, yeah," Madison replied with a tired, wide-eyed look.

"So, you knew all about him?" I asked, earning a look from Madison.

"Probably knew more about him than he did." She answered, "Nate was…" A small, reminiscent smile came across her face, "he was nice."

_But…_

"But?" Sam voiced my thoughts exactly.

"Nothing, really." She shrugged, "I – He had a few scotches in him, and he'd started hitting on anyone in a five-mile radius. You know the type."

Sam tilted his head towards me as if hinting at something, like _I_ was like that, "Yeah. I do, actually."

I raised my brow at him at his implication. I was a changed man for cryin' out loud! "Did, uh, did he have any enemies?" I asked, shooting my brother a dark look.

"What do you mean?" Madison questioned, "It sure looked like an animal attack."

"No, yeah, we're just covering all the bases." I answered with a small chuckle, "Anyone that might have had a beef with him – a former client, an ex?"

Sam noticed a look, "What?" He called her out.

She shook her head, "Well, this is embarrassing, but my ex-boyfriend, Kurt—"

"Kurt have a last name?" I broke in.

"Mueller." She replied, "After we broke up, he went kind of nuts. He's… well, he's kind of been stalking me." A frown tugged at the corner of her lips, "He got it in his head that something was going on between Nate and me." She then added, "He showed up at my office."

Sam glanced at me, "What happened?"

"Kurt got into it with Nate, threw a punch before security grabbed him." Madison recalled, "I was lucky to keep my job."

I leaned in slightly, "When was the last time you saw Kurt?"

Madison thought for a second, "A few nights ago. Actually, the night Nate died. We were all grabbing drinks at this bar, and Kurt showed up."

"And?" I pressed.

"Nothing. It was ... like he was watching me. Then he was gone." She shrugged as if it weren't really a big deal before she looked to Sam, holding his gaze, "To tell you the truth… he scares me."

Letting that sink into the air, I shuffled my feet allowing myself to stand up earning a quick glance from Sam, "Alright, well, we appreciate your time." I began, earning a meek nod from Madison, who stood up when Sam rose to his feet, "Thank you."

"No problem." She replied, following us to the door.

Outside of the apartment building, I looked over to my brother with my hands in my pockets, "So, what do you think?" I questioned.

"Stalker ex-boyfriend?" Sam began, his voice seemed eager to nail this guy to a cross, "He hates the boss. And he was there that night."

"Think he's our dog-faced boy?"

"Well, it's a theory," Sam replied.

"We've had worse." I pointed out, remembering several would-be missed opportunities had it not been for Abigail and Sam's badgering.

Sam nodding, apparently remembering them well, "Yeah."

I nodded in affirmation, "What do you say we pay Kurt a visit?"

* * *

_**Kurt's Apartment**_

Picking the lock to Kurt's apartment, I made short work of it and pushed the door open slowly, entering with extreme caution. Sam and I entered the kitchen, seeing that the living room was clear. I had gone to the refrigerator in searching for signs that this Kurt was the werewolf.

"Anything?" I heard Sam ask from behind.

I stood up, closing the fridge door, "No, nothing but leftovers and a six-pack."

"Check the freezer." Sam said, "Maybe there are some human hearts behind the Haagen-Dazs or something." I paused, then shrugged, turning back to the freezer when the sound of a door opening and shutting sounded, a crash following suit shortly after. I stepped through the shattered glass door onto the balcony, searching for whatever made the noise until I noticed claw mark in the concrete wall, sliding all the way down to the ground.

"Sam, come here!" I called out for him, my brother shortly joining me on the balcony. I pointed to the wall, "Check it out." It wasn't any time until a gunshot was heard down the street where we raced out, and down to the street where a policeman's body lay, completely mauled.

"I'll call 911," Sam said, digging his phone out of his pocket.

I bent down to examine the corpse, "I'd say Kurt's looking more and more like our Cujo."

"Dean, if he's out here, we better check on Madison." Sam then added, a hint of worry coating his words. I raised my brow at it but shrugged it off. He had a good point.

* * *

_**Madison's Apartment**_

We didn't waste any time walking up to Madison's apartment. Standing in front of her door, I rapped on it quickly. Our buddy Glen opened his door from across the hall upon hearing us knocking on Madison's door.

"What's going on?" He questioned.

I turned to him, "Police business, Glen."

At that time, Madison answered her door finally, "What is it?" She asked, confused.

Sam gave Glen a glance before turning his attention to her, "Well, maybe we should talk privately." She nodded, stepping back as Glen retreated back into his apartment. Madison led us into her kitchen where she poured each of us a cup of coffee.

"Has Kurt been here?" Sam questioned her, getting to the point rather quickly.

"Not exactly," Madison replied, handing me a cup, then Sam.

"What exactly does "not exactly" mean?" I iterated after taking a quick sip of coffee.

"Well, he was outside last night. Just…looking. Just looking at me." She explained, pausing when we exchanged a glance, "Has he done something?"

"We're not really sure," Sam answered.

"It's probably nothing, but… we just don't wanna take any chances." I added, "In fact, one of us should probably stay here with you?" Sam shot me a look, in which I shrugged, "Just in case he stops by." I took another sip, "Where does he work?"

"He owns a body shop." She informed us.

I nodded, "You mind grabbing that address for us?" She nodded and left the room, as I smiled, "Thanks."

Sam turned to me, mouth in a thin line, "What was that?"

I shrugged, "That's me being your wingman." Sam's mouth fell open in shock, only to close it promptly, then opened it again.

He then shook his head, clearing his head, "Dude, I don't need you to be anything."

"You're right, but for the sake of the conversation, _you_ need to quit pussy-footing around, _and_ she obviously needs someone to stick around. Which will be you."

Sam let out a scoff, taking a quick glance in the general direction of which Madison exited before turning back to me, "I don't need any help getting with a girl, Dean. Jesus, you and Abigail are killing me!" He hissed.

"You need to take a load off, man, lighten up. At least for once, it isn't me wanting to stay behind with the hot chick." I commented, leaning against the counter.

"No, because if you _did_, Abigail would most likely kick your ass. Or the girl. Whichever she gets a hold of first." Sam shot back. I paused, holding my half empty cup of coffee in my hand, made a face, and nodded in agreement.

"She's a force I do not want to mess with." I agreed, taking another swallow of coffee, "I mean, you can always go after the creepy ex."

Sam shook his head, "Like you said, I better stay here with the hot chick."

I smirked, "Atta boy, Sammy."

"Bundle up out there, all right?" Sam jested, reminding me that it was still pretty chilly outside. I rolled my eyes at him.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, already shivering at the thought.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Kurt's Body Shop**_

"Abs, you should see Sam. He's like a lost puppy with her." Dean held a smug appearance as we walked away from Kurt's body shop, "Kind of amusing, really."

"It's about time," I added, shifting Megan against me, "Sam needs someone."

"I agree," Dean murmured.

"Aside from Sam bein' completely star struck by this Madison, what an' all have I missed out on?" I asked, seeing the Impala where we had left it.

"This other guy, Gary—no, Jerry…Glen?" Dean shook his head, waving his hand in a nonchalant manner, "Ah, forget his name." He shrugged, "Totally head over heels for the girl so bad, it's painful to watch him even talk to her." Dean then grinned, peering at Megan and me, the corner of his eyes crinkling with a childish gleam.

I smirked, moving past a Ford Explorer, "Well, for the record, _you_ were pretty painful to look at tryin' to talk to me." My smirk widened into a grin as I saw Dean roll his eyes with a snort.

"Funny," He replied in a dry tone, "So funny, I forgot to laugh." I chuckled, patting my backside before winking at him. His shoulders shook with a silent laugh, his head shaking in amusement. I peered down at Megan, who was looking around. She was just amazed at the new surroundings, often wanting to reach out and grab whatever she thought she could get, "I'd say this Kurt is just a sleazy ex and not the werewolf."

"I'd bet money on that one, too," I agreed, getting Megan out from her baby wrap, "What is it?" I asked my daughter as she huffed and puffed, "Mad you couldn't get somethin'?" Megan rubbed her face against my chest, pooching her lips out like she just bit into a lemon as she did so, "I think someone's tired."

Dean snorted again, "Nah, she just wants me cause I'm better." I rolled my eyes at him as he scooped her up in his arms and wrapped her in his coat whilst reaching into his pocket. With pursed lips, he dug out his cell phone, dialed three on his phone and put it to his ear as he soaked in my sour expression, "Let me guess. You're sitting on her couch like a stiff, trying to think of something to say." Dean greeted with a knowing grin.

"_Did you find Kurt?_" I heard Sam ask from Dean's phone. I raised a brow, knowing that years of blasting music and firing guns had begun to take a toll on his hearing, hence his phone's volume being so loud.

Then again, maybe it was just selective hearing that came typically with any man.

You could've reached into a hat and picked an answer for that one.

Dean shook his head, "No, he hasn't been at work all week." He added, "But because I'm good, and I mean really, really good," I swatted his arm, to which, his grin widened, "I got a line on where he might be."

"_Good as in, Abigail good_," Sam corrected, to which Dean pursed his lips again. Sam's light laugh confirmed his answer as the both of us leaned against the car, "What's she wearing?"

I rolled my eyes, just as Sam would have done upon hearing, "_Bye, Dean_," and the phone cutting out.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head out of the sheer enjoyment of making Sam squirm, "Oh, Sammy."

"You're incorrigible," I added, Dean's grin unwavering.

"I try to be," He replied as he leaned into me, keeping an arm wrapped securely around Megan, "It's not easy being this brilliant."

"Oh, really?"

He nodded, focusing on my gaze before his eyes flitted to my lips, "Yeah, you know it."

"I think you better check your facts then, Papa Bear," I jested when his lips touched mine. I touched my fingertips to his stubbled cheek when the kiss deepened, that was until a slobbery little fist hit us both in the face. We pulled away, looking down to Megan, who only peered up at us with her little chipmunk grin, giggling.

Beside me, Dean just oozed with pride and so much love he had for his daughter.

I watched him tighten his arms around her some then press a kiss to her forehead. It felt as if my heart had swelled three times its size with love and warmth I had felt for the two. Dean had always a tough man. I had watched him get shot, stabbed, gored, slashed, stomped, punched, electrocuted, and kicked and never blink an eye. The feats that he had displayed, his loyalty to John, Sam, and I had been unwavering.

I could honestly say, that since Megan had been born, in ways, things had changed in all of us while also, remaining the same. Dean could be covered in blood, coming from the worst knockdown drag out of his life, step in the same room as Megan, get one look at her, and it was like everything was okay. There was no doubt in my mind if any hint of danger would be near, Dean would be a formidable force to whomever or whatever tried to hurt her. Megan had him wrapped around her tiny fingers, and he knew it.

"Can you imagine how uncomfortable Sam must be right now?" Dean suddenly asked, grinning widely as he looked to me.

I snorted, "Yeah. I bet he's sittin' on the couch right now watchin' her fold underwear or somethin'."

"Or watching some kind of sissy soap opera." He added with a chuckle.

I pursed my lips at him, "Dean. _We _watch sissy soap operas."

"Dr. Sexy is _not_ a sissy soap opera," Dean replied in a flat tone.

"Yes, it is." I retorted, seeing his eyes fly to the sky.

"Mom doesn't know what she's talking about, does she?" Dean turned his attention to Megan, who looked between us in her naïve, infant wonder, cracking a smile and blew bubbles, "See? She's on my side."

"You're ruinin' our child with that show," I muttered, rolling my eyes at him.

He flashed his teeth, "You love me."

"That I do, that I do." I hummed.

"Now a show that is sissy as all hell is the one _you_ watch."

I slowly turned my head to him, blinking a few times, processing what I had just heard while he held a boyish grin in place, "_Days of Our Lives_ is _not _a sissy show. Eric Brady is a beautiful soul, and so is Brady Black."

"No, they're a bunch of sissies." He tested while I playfully punched him in the shoulder, "Hey, watch it! I got precious cargo!" He said, teasing.

We looked at each other for a beat and laughed at ourselves.

* * *

_**Sam's Point of View**_

_**Madison's Apartment**_

"Wait," I began as I sat on the edge of Madison's couch, still trying to process what I had just watched, "So-so, Kendall married Ethan's father, just to get back at him?"

Madison nodded, "Yup. And now she's set to inherit all the casinos that were supposed to go to Ethan."

I scoffed, "What a bitch!"

There was a beat of silence before the both of us laughed, followed by Madison nudging my side.

"Admit it, you're hooked." She teased.

"No, no, no, no, no, no. I wouldn't say I'm hooked." I replied quickly as she giggled, "Now, you want to see someone who would get hooked, you'd have to see how my brother's girlfriend is. They have full on arguments between _Dr. Sexy_ and _Days of Our Lives._"

Madison grinned, "That _is_ a pretty serious topic. _Days of Our Lives_ would have to win, though."

"Abigail would love you for saying that," I chuckled, "She's the epitome of obsessed."

"She sounds amazing from the way you talk about her."

"She is," I agreed, "The three of us grew up together. Literally. When her family died, my dad took her in. I think of her as a sister." Madison looked to me, touched. I inhaled, thinking of something else, "You know, can I ask you a question?" I asked, "It's – it's a little personal."

"You've seen my entire underwear collection." She reminded me, "Go ahead."

I smiled at her, nodding, "Okay, um… well, you're – you're clearly smart." I began, "I mean, your house is full of great books, you know? And you're independent ..."

Madison nodded slowly, "Uh-huh."

"What were you doing with Kurt?" I asked, trying not to sound scrutinizing if that was the right word for it.

There was a short pause between us, "I don't know." She began, "I mean, it's not like he introduced himself, like, "Hi, I'm possessive and controlling and I like to punch people. Wanna be my girlfriend?"

We shared a laugh.

"Yeah, well, I guess we all make mistakes," I commented, shrugging a little.

"Yeah, well, mine's wanted by the police." She replied, making me laugh, "You wanna know why I stayed with him? Really?" I nodded for her to continue, "I was too insecure to leave."

I frowned at her confession, "I find that hard to believe. I mean, you don't really seem like the type." Her eyes fell away from mine, hefting her shoulders in a small shrug.

"Yeah, well, some stuff happened. My life changed, I changed. For the better, I think." She shrugged off her answer.

I raised a brow, genuinely interested, "What happened?"

"Well, for one thing, I got mugged," Madison replied, nonchalant.

"And that's supposed to be a good thing?" I asked her, surprised at her nonchalance.

"I know, it sounds strange." Madison then started after a small laugh, "And don't get me wrong, it rattled me. But – then it hit me. I could keep feeling sorry for myself, or I could take control of my life. I chose the latter." I nodded in understanding. Her words vaguely reminded me of a conversation Abigail and I had long ago—" First thing I did was tell Kurt he had to go." Madison spoke, interrupting my thoughts, to which, I nodded in approval.

"Smart move." I hummed out.

Her dark eyes held mine, "Apparently. Everything else just opened up, blossomed. It's all been wonderful, really." She paused upon surveying my expression, "What? Doesn't everybody think that being a victim of random violence is the best thing that ever happened to them?"

I laughed, "Yeah, not so much." I thought for a moment, "You're … unusual. If that's the right word." I finished awkwardly.

"Unusual, like…" She circled her finger, pointing to her head, "unusual?"

"No. No. No, no, no." I replied quickly, "Unusual, like … impressive."

"You think so?" She asked, appearing to be surprised at my words.

I was getting ready to answer until my phone rang. I smiled apologetically at her, "Sorry." I answered, "Hey."

In the background, rumbling bass and music almost covered Dean's voice, "_I found him_."

"Good, don't take your eyes off him."

"_Oh, yeah, my eyes are glued_." Dean replied in a salacious tone, then fell silent for a beat, answering my unasked question, "_If you're wondering where Abigail is at, she had to take Megan back to the motel. She was running a fever from her cutting another tooth_." I nodded, knowing he couldn't see what I was doing, "_Look, Sammy, I gotta let you go. I, uh, I don't wanna ... don't wanna miss anything_." I rolled my eyes at him, knowing good and well he wasn't paying much attention.

Madison had retreated into her room for a moment, "Just a friendly reminder of a certain woman who can literally shoot herself in the same wound to kill a werewolf from behind."

"_I could kill Abigail for that one, but, I have to give her props on how bad ass that was."_ Dean replied in a thoughtful tone, "_She wouldn't have to worry about getting her ass kicked by another werewolf, though._"

I chuckled, "Be careful."

"_You too. Wear a condom."_

I rolled my eyes, "Bye, Dean." I shook my head, snapping the phone shut. I sighed, tucking my phone back into my pocket, then turned my attention to the full moon. I couldn't help but feel unsettled by the significance of it. Someone out there was in danger-

"So, um … I'm gonna turn in." Madison had stepped back in the living room, dressed in pajamas. I took a moment to take it in, more or less, trying to process a viable sentence.

"Okay, yeah. Well, I'll be here." I replied.

She shifted in her spot, "Okay."

"You know, if you hear anything, I mean if you wake up, just – just call out," I told her, fidgeting in my seat.

"Okay."

"Okay." I finished, as she gave me an uncomfortable smile, then retreated back into her bedroom. I sighed, leaning back into the couch, "Smooth, Sam. Smooth."

Sometime later, _much_ later, I was watching _3:10 to Yuma _on the Western channel. There hadn't been any signs of movement from Madison's room, everything seemed to be pretty peaceful. I glanced to her bedroom, listening for anything out of the ordinary. Like it had been for the last few hours, it was quiet until my phone started to buzz. I nearly jumped out of my skin, getting it up from the table and looked at the caller ID on the screen, seeing that it was Abigail.

"Hey," I greeted, "Everything okay?"

"_Hey to you too, sunshine,_" Abigail greeted, "_Yeah, everythin's okay. Have you heard from Dean any?"_

"No, maybe he's tailing Kurt." I suggested, hearing Megan crying in the background, "How's butterball?"

"_Bein' a hellcat." _Abigail muttered, her voice clearly exhausted, "_Gave her some Motrin to knock that fever down, but she's fightin' sleep and bein' stubborn._"

I quirked a smile, "Sounds like someone we know."

Abigail laughed, "_Right?_" She paused a beat, "_How's everythin' on the girlfriend?"_

"She's not my girlfriend, Abigail," I muttered, leaning forward and rested my elbows on my knees.

"_Oh, come on, Sammy. I'm not there and I can tell you're into her."_ I rolled my eyes at her words, listening to my niece fuss, "_She sounds like a catch. Honest._"

"She's something else, that's for sure." I admitted, practically hearing Abigail smiling from the other side, "For someone to have been mugged, she's got it all figured out. I mean, she's got a collection of books that are amazing, she agrees that _Days of Our Lives_ is better than _Dr. Sexy_—"

"_Marry her, Sam. I'm tellin' ya. A girl that likes _Days_ is a good one._"

I chuckled, knowing that would get her started, "Just sucks you know?"

She hummed in response, "_Yeah, I know."_

"I mean, you have Dean and Megan," I began, "I have no one."

"_You have Dean and Megan too. Always will, Sam._" Abigail cut in, "_When this job is all done and over with, we'll stay a little while longer—"_

"And what? Get attached and leave?" I stopped her short, "Abigail, I can't."

"_Can't never could._" She simply said as I rolled my eyes again, "_Don't roll your eyes at me, Samuel Winchester, I know you are."_

I nearly cringed at the use of my full name, "Jeeze, calm down, Abs."

"_Well, don't roll your eyes at me," _Came her simple reply, "_Listen, I gotta get off here and get this hellcat to bed, you hear from Dean, tell him to call me. I'm gettin' worried about the dolt."_

"Dean's fine, Abigail, but if he calls me before you, I will tell him." I promised, "Give Butter Ball a kiss for me."

"_You know it, be careful, bub._" I closed my phone, tucking it into my pocket. I blew out a sigh, moving my hair out of my eyes, then shook my head, fixing my hair once again.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Kurt's Apartment—Morning**_

I groaned, lifting myself from the floor in a strange place. Where the hell was I? I looked around, for a moment, then saw Kurt's body on the floor, blood had long since pooled around his body and coagulated. I grimaced, touching the back of my head, then took out my phone.

"Shit," I muttered, seeing that I had missed five calls from Abigail. I made my way around the apartment, wiping my prints from everything before I left, walking down the street with the phone pressed to my ear.

"_Dean, you okay? Abigail is freaking out._" Sam greeted right off the bat.

"Yeah, now that I'm conscious." I replied with a deep bitterness in my tone, "The werewolf knocked me out." A loud sigh left me, "Sam, it's Madison."

"_What?_" Sam asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, awesome job of keeping an eye on her." I spat out, hearing Sam clamber to his feet and make his to her bedroom.

"_Dean, I've been here the whole time. She's in bed, asleep_." Sam replied.

"Well, she wasn't an hour ago." I told him in a dry tone, "Check her right arm below her elbow. I nicked her with a silver knife." I snapped the phone shut, cursing at the throbbing in my head, then flipped it back open, dialing another number.

"_Dean, where the hell have you been? Are you alright?" _Abigail greeted.

I cringed slightly at her tone, "Been better. Listen, I need you to get ready in five, Madison's the werewolf."

"_What?_"

"Yeah, found her munching down on Kurt last night, and she knocked me out." I explained, "Just get ready, and I'll get you and Megan."

"_A'ight,_" She replied, hanging up.

Getting to the motel, I got out, meeting Abigail at the door. She pulled me into an embrace, pressing her face into my chest and allowed herself to calm down before she pulled away, holding my face in her hands.

"I'm fine," I told her, meeting her worried gaze, "Promise."

"That may be the case, but _I _want to be the one to confirm it." I couldn't help but smile at her, pulling her against me, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, "I'd been up all night." I heard her mutter against me.

"I would've done the same thing." I replied, honestly, "Look, we need to go, Abs." She nodded as we walked back into the room, picking up a bag as I lifted Megan up, smiling at her, "Hey princess," Megan grinned from ear to ear at me, "You been good for your momma?"

"She's been a hellcat," I heard Abigail reply, "Her teeth have been botherin' her."

I held Megan close to me, following her out of the room, closing the door behind me, "That bad?"

Abigail paused at the passenger side of the Impala, "Yeah. Horrible. It's been all night." I frowned, instantly feeling guilty for not being there until I saw the look on her face, "It's not your fault, Dean. You were doin' what you needed to do, I understand."

I straightened up from putting Megan in her car seat, "Raising a kid isn't a one sided job, Abs, I should've stayed with you knowing Megan was running a fever." Abigail shook her head at me, getting into the car as I joined her, "I'm serious."

"No, if you had stayed, then we wouldn't know that Madison has been the werewolf, of all people." She replied with a sincere voice, "We knew what we were gettin' into when I first got pregnant. I promise you, it's fine."

I pursed my lips at her, however, she was telling the truth. We did know what we were getting into, how tough _this _was going to be. Can't have your cake and eat it too, I guess. I started the car, pulling back out from the parking spot and got back onto the road to Madison's apartment.

Knocking on the door, Abigail stood beside me with Megan held against her protectively, her entire demeanor changing from sincere to cautious. Sam opened the door, first seeing me, then seemed genuinely shocked to see Abigail and Megan following in behind.

I smirked at Madison, taking out my handgun, "How you doin'? My head feels great, thanks."

"Dean," Abigail hissed out, making me pause and turn to her and Sam.

"We've gotta talk." Sam murmured, bringing Abigail and me into another room, "She says she has no idea what I'm talking about."

"She's lying," I stated flatly, shrugging as if it weren't any more obvious.

Abigail tilted her head, "Or maybe she really doesn't know she's changin', you know?"

I glanced at her, almost in disbelief. She was supposed to be on my side!

Sam nodded, "Maybe – maybe when the creature takes over, she blacks out."

"Like a really hot Incredible Hulk." I deadpanned, "Come on, guys!" I hissed as Abigail stared at me unimpressed, "She ganked her boss and her ex-boyfriend. That doesn't sound rash and unconscious."

"Yeah, but what if it was, Dean?" Sam argued, trying to reason with me, "I mean, what if some animal part of her brain saw both those guys as threats? Hell, the cop, too."

I scrunched my face at him, "What are you, the Dog Whisperer now?"

Sam let out an exasperated sigh, "Look, man, I just… I don't know, there, there, there was something in her eyes."

"Yeah, she's killing people!" I snapped.

"But if she has no control over it—" Abigail began.

I cut her off, "Exactly. She can't control it. Even if she's telling the truth, it's not gonna change anything."

"I'm not gonna let you put a bullet through some girl's chest who has no idea what's happenin'." She stated, "I'll be damned."

"Abigail, you're supposed to be on _my_ side!" I replied, incredulous.

"I'm on no one's side, honey. I call it as I see it." She snapped, the color on her cheeks was beginning to turn red.

"Guys, she's a monster, and the both of you are feeling sorry for her?" I asked.

Sam stood beside Abigail, staring at me with a steely gaze, "Maybe we understand her." I clenched my jaw at his words.

Abigail met my incredulous expression with an exhausted one, "Look, guys, there might be another way we can get the job done without having to waste her."

"Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?" I asked, clearly knowing what she was trying to get at.

She and Sam peered into Dad's journal, flipping through pages at lightning speed until they came to something, "Dad's theory – "_lycanthropy might have a cure if you kill the werewolf who bit you, severing the bloodline_"." Sam read aloud, glancing up at me for some kind of relenting.

I pointed to them, "_MIGHT _have a cure. Meaning "who the hell knows?"

Abigail shrugged with Megan in her arm, "It's worth a shot, Dean."

I rolled my eyes at her, "We don't even know where to start looking, all right? I mean, the puppy that bit her could be anyone, anywhere. It could've been years ago."

Sam shook his head, realizing something, "No. I don't think so." He led us back into the living room where Madison was still seated.

"Madison, when were you mugged?" He asked her. She doesn't answer him until Abigail slowly approached her.

"Please. It's important, all right? Just answer the question, Madison." She urged in a gentle tone.

Madison stared at her for a beat, "About a month ago."

"Did you see the guy?" Sam asked.

Madison shook her head, "No. He grabbed me from behind."

"Did he bite you?" Abigail then asked, her tone becoming firm.

Madison fell silent, staring at Abigail uncomfortably, "How did you know that?"

"Where?" She asked again.

"On, on the back of my neck," Madison replied as Sam set down his gun, goes to her, and brushed away her hair. I saw a scarred lump on her neck about the size of a golf ball.

"Oh, that's just a love bite. Believe me, that could have been a lot worse." I commented, "Where were you at the time?"

Madison replied, "Walking home from a friend's loft."

"Let me guess," Abigail answered, "Not too far from Hunter's Point?"

Abigail shut the door behind us as we stepped into the other room, "That's the same place where those other murders happened." She recalled, placing a hand on the back of Megan's head.

"I'm telling you, it's a werewolf's hunting grounds," Sam added.

I glanced at them, "Maybe, but that doesn't mean it's gonna be out there tonight."

"It's the right time of the lunar cycle. Look, I know it's a long shot." Sam tried.

"Hey, you're forgetting something," I began, "Maddie's probably gonna turn soon, all right? We can't just let her take off to an all-you-can-eat buffet."

"I'll stay with her," Sam replied.

"And if she busts loose?" I iterated, not getting a response from Sam, "Sam?"

"I'll do it," Sam muttered quietly.

"Sam." I began.

"I'll shoot her, all right?" Sam's voice broke slightly, "But Dean, I need you to go out there. At least go look for the thing." I exchanged a look with Abigail, who seemed extremely upset about Sam. Sam turned to her, "Abigail, Dean, please. I know we can save this girl."

I met Abigail's gaze once again, then Megan, then back to Sam before I sighed, "Fine. Abigail, I'm taking you and the baby back to the room."

Sam and Abigail nodded.

* * *

_**Hunter's Point—Night**_

Finding the werewolf wasn't too hard to locate, considering there was a hooker screaming out in terror. When I reached the scene, the werewolf must have caught up to the lady, dragging her across the pavement as she screamed with every breath.

Aiming my weapon on the creature, I yelled out, "Hey!" Just as I had spoken, the werewolf looked up, firing three times. Each one hit the werewolf squarely in the chest. To my surprise, the werewolf wound up being Madison's neighbor, Glen. The woman stood up, frightened, and glanced at me before running away without saying a word.

"Hey, don't mention it!" I called out after her, shaking my head when I crouched next to Glen, who was coughing and choking on his own blood. His fangs retracted after a moment, returning him to normal.

"It happened ... again." He choked out, "Where am I? H–help me. Oh, God. Oh my God." Glen coughed harshly.

"All right, easy, Glen." I told him, "Just take it easy."

It wasn't long before the poor bastard's eyes glazed over as he died in front of me.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Madison's Apartment—Morning**_

"It was sort of sad, actually. Glen had no clue what was going on." Dean recalled, pausing for a moment before turning to Sam, "Hey, why do you think he turned Madison instead of just killing her in the first place?"

"I don't know." He admitted, "I mean, he kind of seemed to have a thing for her."

"Maybe his primal instinct did, too." Dean suggested, "Maybe he was looking for a little, uh, hot breeding action."

Sam glanced back to me with an unimpressed expression, "Yeah. Something like that."

"_So?_" Dean spoke slowly.

Sam stared at his brother for a beat, "So what?"

"Speakin' of Madison …?" I answered for Dean, earning another eye roll.

"Oh, whatever."

"Don't _whatever_ me!" I retorted, "You liked her."

"Maybe, uh—" Dean began.

"Guys, she thought I was a stark-raving lunatic."

"You saved her life." Dean and I spoke in unison, giving each other weird looks.

"Yeah, but she doesn't know that," Sam muttered, shortly before Madison suddenly appeared in the window, causing all three of us to jump.

"You know, for a stake-out, your car's a bit conspicuous." Madison said, "What are you still doing here?"

Dean turned to her, "Honestly? Uh, we're pretty sure you're not gonna turn tonight, but we've gotta be a hundred percent, so… you know, we're ... lurking."

"I know this sounds crazy." I began, laughing a little nervously, however, taking a mental note when her visage didn't alter in any way.

She raised a brow at us, "Sure does." She agreed, "Well, if we're gonna wait it out… we might as well do it together." Sam glanced back to me as I gave him a look of approval, given the circumstances. Madison led us up the stairs and into her apartment, shutting the door behind us.

"You were telling the truth, weren't you?" She turned to us, "About everything. What you did – it was to help me."

Sam nodded, "Yeah."

"I did all of those horrible things … when I turned."

Sam's lips tightened as he glanced to Dean and me, "You didn't know."

"So, when will we know for sure? Moonrise?" Madison asked, tears glistening in her eyes as she got back to the task at hand.

"No, I don't think so." Sam told her gently, "You turned the middle of the night last night. I think we've gotta hang in until sun-up." Dean and I had been watching Sam carefully, as in microscopically. For Dean, this was all about Sam and his feelings for the girl. For me, I was feeling everything from all sides; Dean's cautious behavior, Sam's puppy love for Madison, and Madison's apprehension of what the night's going to bring. I truly cared for Sam, and the only thing I wanted was for Sam to be able to experience happiness, if only for a night.

"Well, it looks like we've got ourselves a few hours to kill. Poker, anyone?" I held Megan against me, smiling into what hair she had at Dean's suggestion; an attempt to cut the surmounting tension.

A couple hours had passed. The four of us sat at the table, Megan sitting on my lap with her hands slapping the table. Madison adored her, occasionally reaching to the middle of the table and tapped her nails against it, catching Megan's attention. Dean would glance to Madison then to Megan, almost wary of her trying to play with our daughter until I would nonchalantly kick his boot.

"How old is she?" She asked, smiling at us.

"Seven months," I replied, holding my cards away from Megan's outstretched hands.

"Wow, she's little for seven months." She covered her mouth, realizing that it really wasn't her place to even say that, but was reassured when I smiled at her.

"It's okay," I reassured her, "We get that _all _the time. She was born at twenty-seven weeks."

Madison furrowed her brows, "Oh gosh..."

"It's fine, really." I replied, "She's done well so far. Spent a few months in the NICU." I stroked what hair she had on her head in endearment, tilting my head towards Dean, "Don't let the bad ass act fool ya, she's got this one wrapped around her finger." I grinned, nudging Dean in the side.

His bad ass act slipped when his cheeks tinted bright red. Madison and Sam both started to laugh, "Not like it's a bad thing," Dean huffed out, leaning back in his chair and watched Megan grunt, reaching for things that were out of her reach.

Another couple of hours had passed.

Megan was long gone, fast asleep in Dean's arms as the four of us watched the sun rose from the horizon. Madison looked to the three of us, hope etched into her features.

"Does – does this mean it worked?" She asked, hope in her voice.

Sam gave her a relieved expression, "Yeah. I think so."

A sigh of relief passed through Madison's lips, "Oh, God, thank you. Thank you so much." She wrapped her arms around Sam, hugging him with eagerness. Dean and I exchanged a coy look before he coughed, and they pulled away, "You, too, Dean and Abigail. Thank you."

Dean waved his hand dismissively, "Aw, don't mention it."

There was an awkward pause, allowing me to get up with a stretch, "So, we're just gonna head back to the hotel and … watch some Pay-Per-View or something. Leave you two scamps to…do whatever." I flashed Sam and Madison a childlike grin as Dean and I practically ran out of the apartment with our child in tow. Having put Megan in the car, the both of us hooped and hollered like a bunch of idiots; Dean pumping his fists in the air while I jumped up and down. Granted, there were a few weird looks from passersby, but it didn't matter. We hit gold.

Dean wrapped me in his arms, pulling me into a heated kiss that pressed my back against the side of the Impala. He pulled away grinning, "So, since we have the rest of the day to ourselves, I was thinking…"

"You don't gotta ask." I finished for him, pressing my lips against his.

A grumbling sound resonated from him as he pulled away, "Jesus, you don't quit people's gonna see a show they don't want to see." I grinned, dropping my hands to his hips and pulled them towards me so that his body was fully against mine.

"Then it'll be a show worth seein'." My voice lowered into a huskiness that caused goosebumps to rise across my body and his, no doubt.

"As much as I would like to, trust me, I do, I'd rather not have my kid in the car with me." He brought up, to which, I tilted my head.

"Good point." I opened the car door from behind me, "Let's go then." Dean stepped back, holding the driver's door open as I scooted across the front seat, then Dean got in, taking no time to start the car up. Upon parking in front of the motel, Dean got Megan out without her waking up as I unlocked the motel room, passing through the threshold. By the good Lord above, Megan was still out when Dean had placed her in her playpen, then straightened up.

"So what about that show you were talking about?" He pressed, quirking an eyebrow at me.

"Still up for grabs if you want it." I gave him a saucy smile when he crossed the room and pushed me against the wall. I bit my lip, peering up at him beneath my lashes allowing my hands to push his jacket off his shoulders. It fell to the ground in an unceremonious heap along with mine. His mouth crashed down on mine, keeping his body against mine as his tongue brushed against mine. I moaned, clutching his shoulder in an attempt to pull him closer to me even though he was as close as it was going to get.

We pulled away briefly, shucking off all of our clothing, shirts and pants and undergarments being tossed every which way until Dean captured my mouth with his again. The slow build wasn't going to happen this time around. I wanted it as this past week has been; rough and to the point. Again, my back found the cold wall, eliciting a shocked gasp from me when he placed his hands on my legs and hoisted me onto his waist. He took the time to place his hardened cock between my legs and rolled his hips into me, another moan escaping from my mouth when Dean began a steady pace.

It didn't last long, though. Before long, the sounds of our moans filled the air and skin slapping against skin and wall reverberated throughout the room. His hands found my hair and pulled, eliciting a sharp cry from me as my body arched against his. The both of us had ascended into cloud nine, only to pause long enough for Dean halt what he was doing, allow me to stand on shaking legs as he cleared off the table. I didn't hesitate for him to have to say a word, I sat on top of it and laid back while Dean continued what he was doing. His hands gripped my thighs, keeping a quick pace even as he leaned over into me and placed smoldering kisses along my neck and chest.

As the both of us came crashing down from our high, his grip on my thighs tightened up until his release, hung his head back with closed eyes and bucked his hips.

Once more, he didn't stop. After a few more strokes for good measure, he and I made it across the room to our bed where he fell onto the bed with a salacious grin. I straddled him, not quite letting his cock enter, but more or less rubbed against the length of it where harsh breaths came from him. His hands found their way back onto my hips as I did so in a rough manner before I sank down, allowing his length to fill me with a mutual, satisfied groan leaving the both of us.

I rolled my hips against him, placing my hands on his chest when I began at a faster pace.

Dean's eyes rolled into the back of his head, "Oh, fuck…" I only grinned, keeping a strong pace. His hands ran across my body until his hand found a few tendrils of my hair. He sat up halfway, enough to wrap his hand in my hair and tugged harder than what it was when we were at the wall. His eyes held this raw, carnal expression as he held onto my hair with his right hand then his left found my throat where he gripped it.

Sensations were rolling off of me that I haven't felt in a while that I was thoroughly enjoying, and it was a good thing Sam wasn't here or he would be scarred for life.

"Abs, you're gonna have to calm down for a minute," He rasped out, letting go of my throat and hair, "I'm gonna come." I felt his body convulse somewhat, his knees drew from underneath, bucking me with the intense momentum that getting off was practically instantaneous. Another moment or two was left to recuperate before Dean moved, sending me underneath him with a grunt and proceeded once more on top.

Upon almost reaching the zenith of another climax, that's when I felt a pair of eyes on us.

"Wait, wait…" I tapped Dean's thigh, causing him to still, confused. I moved my head to an angle where I could see Megan's playpen and met a pair of eyes. Dean shifted, looking back as well, realizing that Megan was up, and watching us, "Looks like we gotta cut things short."

"Yeah," he agreed, chuckling a little as he moved over to my side. The both of us, sweaty as all hell, got up. I picked up a random shirt off the floor, knowing it either had to be mine or Dean's, pulled it over my head. Pleasingly, it was Dean's, the tail of his shirt reaching the bottom of my buttocks by just a fraction, then picked up Megan.

"You have a good nappie?" I asked as I kissed her forehead with a smile, "I'd say you're a little hungry girl, ain't ya?"

Dean, who had come back from the bathroom, found a pair of shorts from the duffel bag and put them on, "Speaking of hungry, I'm starved."

I turned my head to look at him, "You're always starving."

His shoulders rose with a shrug, "Food has never done me wrong."

"Except for that time in Reno you had food poisonin' from that all you can eat buffet." I reminded him.

He scoffed, "That was nothing."

I fully turned to him, Megan in my arms as I laughed, "You were camped out in the bathroom for a week."

"Thank the porcelain gods for that, too." He pointed at me with a grin. I shook my head at him, laughing still.

"Your daddy's a nut," I said to Megan, who looked between us, then squealed, "Yeah, that's right. Nut." Dean rolled his eyes at me.

"Don't listen to her, princess, she lies." He feigned offense as I sat down beside him with my back leaned against the headboard, letting Megan lean towards him, "That's right, you know who's better." I swatted his shoulder, earning a light-hearted chuckle from him, "This needs to happen more."

I blinked, not registering what Dean had said, "What needs to happen more?"

"Sam finding a girl gives us alone time." He replied, keeping his gaze fixed on Megan.

"Well, I mean, you _did_ find an awesome cabin back in Nevada where we stayed two extra days," I pointed out, "Which was great."

His gaze lifted from Megan—who was teetering as she sat up—to me, "Yeah, it was great, wasn't it?"

"I mean, Sam havin' a girl would make me the happiest person alive because everyone should have someone."

Dean tilted his head in agreement, "True."

"Maybe not a werewolf," I added in a thoughtful manner.

"True again," Dean replied, "But maybe this cutting out the bloodline BS actually worked. For Sam's sake."

"I hope so," I muttered, feeling my chest clench whenever I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder. I closed my eyes for a moment as he pressed a kiss on the top of my head, then looked at Megan who was chewing on her fist, "Child if those teeth don't come in soon, you're not gonna have much of a hand left from you chewin' on it."

Megan retaliated with a lopsided smile despite her index finger in the corner of her mouth and gave us both an _oooh,_ which made Dean laugh.

"That's fine parenting there, Abs," He chuckled, nudging my side as I rolled my eyes at him. The both of us watched Megan fall backward onto her back before rolling over onto her stomach. I felt a twang of sadness come from Dean. The feeling was more or less bittersweet. Looking back at the last seven months, it had been one hell of a rollercoaster. Megan wasn't the one pound preemie anymore that could fit in your palms but a healthy, eighteen pound, seven-month-old child.

These were moments like this that really made me wish things were different. No supernatural powers. No demons, or werewolves, or anything that bumped in the night. Not having to worry about constantly being in danger. Nothing. Just Dean, Megan, Sam, and I living a normal life. I knew better than to want that, or to even think about it. How couldn't I, though? Every time I looked at Dean and I's daughter, how can anyone _not_ think of wanting a nice, safe place to call home for your child?

I knew Dean thought about it often. I knew he felt like a failure for not being able to provide that safe and stable environment Megan needed rather than a godforsaken motel room every other night. It was thoughts like that, which kept us up at night. It was the constant worrying and nightmares that scared us like two young kids.

Maybe one day we'd have that chance to give Megan that solidarity she needs.

Today was just not that day.

"Hey," Dean's voice snapped me from my thoughts, to which, I glanced up to his curious gaze, "You okay?"

I pressed my lips into a thin line, nodding slightly, "Yeah. Just thinkin'."

Dean's brows pulled together, "About?"

"Everythin' I s'pose." I answered in a light tone. Dean took his right hand, curling his fingertips under my chin so that I could look at him better. His features mirrored mine, knowing what 'everything' meant as he tipped his head to capture my lips in his. I placed a hand on his cheek to deepen the kiss, then pulled away a fraction.

"We'll figure something out, Abs. We always do." Dean murmured, "Before you know it, we might have that apple pie life after all."

I smiled weakly at that, "Maybe."

"Well, not apple pie, just something stable." He added, "Something we could call home instead of being in the car." His fingers stroked the side of my face, "You and Megan are the best thing I have, other than Sam." There was a slight pause as he scanned my face for a moment, "I love you, Abigail, more than you could ever know."

"I love you, Dean." I echoed, noticing the soft expression he held.

"There's nothing I want more than to have something stable." He continued, "but it's just not physically possible right now."

I stroked his cheek knowingly, "I know."

Dean's jaw ticked in frustration, "I just wish I could give you and Megan more than what I've got."

"You give us more than enough, Dean." I reassured, "We're in it for the long haul." Dean's lips thinned as he nodded. Turning his gaze to his lap for a moment, he clenched his jaw until Megan climbed onto his lap with a giggle. Despite the heavy weight crushing him, he found the strength to smile at her, taking his hand from my face and hugged her.

I got up from the bed, picking up our clothes that laid haphazardly on the floor from our earlier tryst, "You know, you look better in my shirt than I do." Dean commented in an amused voice that caused me to pause, looking back at him as he held Megan against his chest, his mouth holding an amused smile.

"You think so?" I asked as he nodded.

"Yeah," He commented with a widening grin, "Like a masterpiece that belongs in a museum."

I snorted, "Sh_it_, maybe in the back of the museum where all the junky stuff is stored."

"No. In the main room for all to see." He insisted. I rolled my eyes at him, grinning like an idiot, "What can I say? You're my _butter_ half."

"Oh my god, you're such a dork." I laughed.

"You can't deny me, Abs, we're like hot chocolate and marshmallows," Dean continued with a grin, "You're hot and I wanna be on top of you."

"Well, in that case, you can check that one off." I jested as the both of us laughed, only to subside when someone began to pound on our door. Dean frowned, slipping out of the bed as I slipped on a pair of pants, handing Megan to me as he answered the door.

"She-she turned," Sam's panicked voice greeted him.

My heart sank as he let him in, "What?"

"I couldn't grab her in time." He said, forlorn as he sank onto the second bed. His face was pale and sweaty.

"We'll find her, Sammy." Dean reassured, realizing that we weren't exactly dressed, "Just, uh, give me…_us_ a minute." Sam nodded, holding his head down, distraught. I approached him with Megan.

"You want to hold her for a moment?" I asked, seeing the tears welling in his eyes.

He smiled weakly despite the remaining guilty expression that resided in his features, "Yeah." When he took her, I wiped away a few stray tears from his face.

"We're gonna find her, Sam. I promise." I reassured.

"I hope so." I held my lips in a thin line before I retreated into the bathroom with Dean and finished getting dressed. We were out of the room in less than five minutes with Megan ready to go as well. The three of us were descending the steps in rapid succession, making our way to the car.

"I already called Bobby. He doesn't know anything. Except he knew severing the bloodline wouldn't work. That's everyone. They all say it's impossible to reverse it." Sam informed us.

"How come she didn't turn when we were with her?" Dean questioned, his gaze moving from Sam to me.

"Relyin' on this power is like relyin' on a rock to keep you afloat," I offered, raising my hands in defense, "But I _do_ have an idea."

Dean and Sam paused, "Shoot."

"Maybe she's gotta be asleep to turn." I voiced in a thoughtful manner.

Sam turned to the two of us, self-degradation rolling off his six-four frame, "What the hell does it matter, guys?" I furrowed my brows at him, "Look, we've gotta find some way to help her, some legend we missed or something."

"If there was, don't you think someone we know would've known it?" Dean questioned logically, causing Sam to glare at him.

"Well, then we have to look harder! Until we find something." Sam argued irrationally.

It broke my heart to see Sam in this state. His head wasn't in the right place, which was understandable. I touched his arm, earning a withering look, "Sammy, I don't think we've got a choice here anymore."

He jerked his arm out of my hand staring at me with a betrayed look in his eyes, almost bewildered that I would even imply that, "What?"

"I hate to say it. She's a sweet girl, but part of her is—" Dean defended me, only to be cut off by Sam.

"Evil?" Sam finished.

Dean nodded, "Yeah."

"Yeah, that's what they say about me—even you, Abigail, or have you forgotten about that?"

I averted my gaze to the ground, flinching as if I had been struck despite the sharp jolt of anger twisting in my stomach, "Sam, we never killed a human." I spoke lightly, catching a glimpse of his cheeks turning a bright red.

"Dean thought I did, and I hurt you," He protested as Dean winced at his words.

I frowned deeply, "You weren't you," I reminded.

Sam shook his head at us, irritated, to say the least, "So, me, you guys won't kill, but her, you're just gonna blow away?" Before Dean could get a word in, Sam's cell phone started to ring, saving Sam from a possible ass ripping. Megan began to cry out in her car seat, to which, I glanced at Dean. His firm gaze met mine, softening a bit before I headed to the car to tend to Megan when Sam answered.

"Madison, where are you?" Sam questioned, his voice heightened with worry for her as he began to make his way to the car, if not practically running for it, "Well, do you see any street signs?" Sam questioned Madison hurriedly, "All right, hold on, Maddie. We're coming to get you, just stay where you are."

* * *

_**Madison's Apartment**_

Having picked up Madison from Middle Point, we returned to her apartment where we gathered around the living room either sitting or standing up. There was a heaviness in the room. It was a familiar heaviness, having known it several times. It was something that always followed us around.

In front of me, Madison appeared ashen, distressed no doubt.

In front of us sat Dean's gun on the table; an omen to what was about to happen. I held Megan closer to me as the minutes ticked away, my pistol positioned on my left side felt like a bag of sand. The fact that I had Megan in here was ignorance at best. I didn't want her to be in the same room, much less apartment when it happened, which is why I was itching to get out of the apartment.

"I don't remember anything. I probably killed someone last night. Didn't I?" She looked to Sam, who morosely looked down at his hands.

"There's no way to know yet," I spoke in a soft tone trying to give her some form of hope.

"Is there something else we can try to make it go away?" Madison asked us, hopeful.

"We'll find something. I mean, there's gotta be some answer, somewhere." Sam promised her. Despite the attempts of being hopeful, a knot formed in my chest.

"That's not entirely true." Dean finally spoke up, his tone solemn, "Madison, you deserve to know. We've scoured every source. There's just no cure."

"Is – is he right?" Madison asked, turning to Sam.

Sam couldn't bring himself to speak. He stood up, turning away from Madison. I stood beside Dean in silence. Tears were stinging my eyes watching everything before me. Jobs were tough, even harder when you had an emotional attachment involved, which John had forbidden us; especially between Dean and I. I closed my eyes, willing this overbearing weight of dread away.

"Well, we could lock you up at night, but …" Dean paused for a beat, "you'd bust out, and some night you will, someone else dies." There was another beat, "I'm sorry. I am."

"So, I guess that's all there is to it, then." Madison's voice wavered through the tears.

"Stop it. Don't talk like that." Sam opposed, clearly upset at her words.

"Sam, I don't wanna hurt anyone else. I don't wanna hurt you." Madison then picked up the gun, handing it to him. Sam didn't make a move to take it from her as she held the barrel, pressing the butt of the pistol into his chest.

"Put that down." Sam pleaded, shaking his head.

"I can't do it myself." Madison told him, "I need you to help me."

Sam met her gaze, fighting back tears as he spoke, "Madison, no."

"Sam… I'm a monster." Madison tried to push the gun in his hands.

"You don't have to be. We could find a way, all right? I can. I'm gonna save you." Sam promised as tears began to fall freely down Madison's face.

"You tried." She told him, crying harder as she spoke, "I know you tried. But this is all that there is left. Help me, Sam. I want you to do it. I want it to be you."

"I can't," Sam's voice broke.

"I don't wanna die. I don't. But I can't live like this. This is the way you can save me. Please. I'm asking you to save me." Madison pleaded as Sam stubbornly shook his head at her request. Dean and I exchanged forlorn glances. Someone had to do it. I glanced at her again, her image faltering to me. I met Dean's gaze again, tilting my head in an inquisitive manner, not having to ask that question that hung over the both of us. I could do it. To save Sam from this, to keep him from having to do such a difficult thing, I would do it no questions asked.

However, there was a finality to the expression Dean had that already told me that there was no need for me to have to keep Megan here. He had already made up his mind with one shake of his head, walking over to them and carefully took the gun from Madison. Sam struggled, choking back tears before he went into another room. Dean and I entered behind him, silent.

"Sam." Dean held up the gun, "I'm sorry."

Sam turned to us, tears running down his face, "No, you're right." He admitted, "She's right."

"We'll do this one," I offered, trying to spare him of this.

Dean nodded minutely at my words, "Sammy, I got this one. I'll do it."

"She asked me to." He said quietly.

"You don't have to." Dean offered, along with me, trying to protect Sam from having to shoot Madison.

"Yes, I do." Sam pleaded as tears slid down his face freely, "Please." He held his hand out for the gun. Dean stared at him, deeply upset, then handed it to him. Sam turned to me, "Take Megan to the car, Abigail. Please." I bit my lip, nodding. I didn't have to say anything to either of them when I turned, leaving Madison's apartment. I descended the steps quicker than what I wanted with Megan, but by the time I had made it to the car, I felt this jolt run through me. I opened the door and sat down, clutching Megan. I stared up at the windows, tears rolling down my face as Megan started to wail.

I rocked her, trying to calm her down as I began to sing to her, "_Here's a little song I wrote,_" My voice cracked horribly, "_You might want to sing it note for note_," I sniffled, taking the palm of my hand to wipe away tears, "_Don't worry_," I took a sharp breath as more tears burst forth, "_be happy_."

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! Heart is finally out. It's certainly took me long enough. Life in general has put me through the ringer, especially on the home front. For some reason, this chapter was a lot harder for me to write than what it should've. I know this next one will be a challenge as well. I really didn't care for _Hollywood Babylon, _anyone feel the same? So, I'm trying to decide if I want to do an original chapter with flashback of that episode, or if I should keep it. I'd love to know your thoughts on that. **

**I'd also like to give credit, where credit is due. First and foremost, the _Supernatural_ franchise. Without this show, this story couldn't be made possible. Secondly, I want to give credit to my lovely friend, _Ladysunshine6_ who has been more than just a friend to me. She's been there for me when I wasn't. Honestly, guys, I couldn't ask for a better person. **

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**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me or you can get a hold of me via Tumblr! I love receivingfan-mail for all three!**

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**Song for this chapter: ****_Breath _****by Breaking Benjamin**

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**AfireLove1998****-Thank you so much! I appreciate the kind words! I'm so glad that you love the story! Nothing's going to happen to Megan, I promise! **

**grapejuice101-Thank you, dear! I appreciate it! I'm so sorry it's took me this long again to update. I hope you like this chapter. (:**

**Love. Fiction. 2017-Thank you! I hope you enjoy this new chapter! (:**

**angelicedg-Thank you so much! I was hoping that they would do good together, despite it being choppy. The last part of that chapter was my favorite part to write. I prefer the cutesy, fluffy, smutty stuff. **

**runawaycherry93-Thank you! I love writing stuff like that over the sad ones, even though I think I do better with the angsty stuff. haha.**

**devoncarman-Awe, thank you so much for your review! I loved it. It honestly makes me so happy to read it! I hope you enjoy this new chapter! Let me know what you thought of it! (: **


	23. Folsom Prison Blues

_I hear the train a comin' rollin' round the bend_

_I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when_

_Well I'm stuck in Folsom Prison and time keeps dragging on_

_While a train keeps a rollin' on down to San Antone_

_Well when I was just a baby my mama told me son_

_Always be a good boy don't ever play with guns_

_Well I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die_

_When I hear that whistle blowin' I hang my head and I cry_

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Arkansas Museum of Anthropology—Night**_

Crisp, night air greeted the three of us like an old friend as we leaned against the car staring at the Arkansas Museum of Anthropology before us. I wrapped my arms around myself, drawing my jean jacket around me tighter from the chill of the wind despite being between Dean and Sam.

"I hate this plan, Dean," I muttered, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

"I second that." Sam agreed from beside me.

"Yeah, I got that the first ten times I heard it," Dean replied in a sharp tone. He was just as thrilled as Sam was, hell, as I was and I wasn't even a part of it. I felt him shift beside me, lacing an arm around my waist to tuck me against him. I leaned my head on his shoulder, sensing how uneasy he was, "It's gonna work out, Abs."

I brought my thumb to my mouth, chewing on the skin around my nail, "I know." I muttered, "There's just somethin' about this entire thing I don't feel comfortable with." Dean's arm tightened around me in a reassuring manner.

"I'm glad Bobby could come get Megan as quick as he did," Sam spoke, turning my troubled thoughts to my daughter's absence as Dean and I nodded in unison, "I miss her."

"Definitely not the same without her," Dean added in agreement, "At least she's safe."

"Yeah," I spoke lightly, "But hey, at least y'all got meet Tara Benchley."

Dean scoffed, "You throwing down notes with Steven Tyler was the highlight of my entire life. I mean, _Steven freaking Tyler_." I pursed my lips to keep from smiling but failed. Horribly. I hid my face in his jacket, knowing that the two boys were grinning, "I'd take watching that for the rest of my _life_ compared to seeing Tara Benchley again."

"Dude, you were practically drooling over the girl," Sam pointed out with a smug expression.

Dean scoffed, "I did _not_."

"Ah, yeah, you were. If _anything_, you were like a dog in heat." I snickered at the two's bickering.

"At least I didn't geek out over Steve Tennant, or whatever is name is." Dean huffed out, earning horrified looks from Sam and me.

"_Steve_ Tennant?" I asked, "N_ooooo_. David Tennant, Dean. _David_."

"No Steven even there." Sam added, "How could you _not _like David Tennant?"

"Christopher Eccelston was a pretty good Doctor, though," I added thoughtfully.

Dean rolled his eyes at us, "Whatever, _nerds_." I swatted his arm with a playful scoff. Dean just raised his brows at me before he glanced to the Museum once again, returning to the task at hand with a heavy sigh, "I guess we better get going."

I frowned, once more becoming uneasy, "Yeah, I know." I caught Dean and Sam's glances knowing that they were just as unnerved by the whole Phase One, Two, and Three thing. If anything, each of us could probably beat our heads into a wall, "Just…be careful. The both of you. I don't like this whole bein' separated thing."

"Well, if it were for anything else, you'd be with us through the end," Sam answered to which Dean tipped his head to the side in response to what he said.

"Trust us, Abs. You think we want you staying behind?" Dean asked. I shook my head minutely with thin lips.

Damn work ethics.

Damn my parents for drilling that into my head.

Damn John Winchester for adding to it.

"I mean, it's better than where we're going." Dean added, interrupting my thoughts, "Then, we'd have to kill someone. For real." I gave him a sour expression, turning to look at Sam, who seemed a little smug about that. Dean only replied with a lighthearted chuckle, taking me in his arms once again, this time as a farewell hug. I fought back tears as I brought my arms up to his shoulders, and buried my face again. His left hand held the back of my head, pressing his cheek against my hair. I must've blinked a hundred times just to try and rid myself of tears that threatened to escape.

He pulled away enough to capture my face in his hands as I saw his small, reassuring smile. His thumbs ran underneath my eyes, wiping away what tears that had clung to my lashes, then kissed me. It was a tentative kiss at first. One that was meant to reassure me, however, he leaned into me, allowing it to grow into a more meaningful kiss that made me feel like I was going to melt into a puddle.

Sam let out a cough, signaling that it was time to go. Breaking the kiss, Dean stroked my face, taking me in once again, "It's gonna be okay, Abs, promise. Might be a while, though."

The sound that escaped my mouth was something that sounded like a toss-up between a scoff and a laugh, "Don't tell me that."

Dean grinned at me, "Well, I wouldn't say a while. Maybe a few days." I rolled my eyes at him.

"We'll be out before you know it," Sam reassured. I nodded, giving Dean another hug that seemed short-lived before I went to Sam. I wrapped my arms around his middle, his arms wrapping around my back as he placed a gentle kiss on my cheek.

"Be careful," I muttered against his chest.

"We will," Sam replied as we stepped back.

"Well, now or never," Dean said to his brother, giving me a wink as they both headed towards the museum. I leaned against the cold metal, blowing out a breath that seemed a little too loud for my own good. I hated this as much as I hated not having Megan with me. When they were out of sight, I rounded the front of the car and got into the driver's side where I started it. I parked further away from the scene, yet close enough to stay under the radar.

All of a sudden, it was like Hellfire rained down onto the place with police. There were several loads of cars, the lights flashing with no sirens blaring. I brought my thumb up to my mouth again, chewing on my nail this time as minutes had passed. My heart sunk when a handful of officers exited the building with Dean and Sam in handcuffs. I broke out a pair of binoculars, seeing Sam appearing more pissed off than irritated, and Dean, well, being Dean; smiling like a bird-fed cat and arrogant as usual.

This might've been part of the plan, but it for sure didn't put my mind at ease watching them get shoved into two different squad cars.

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Police Station—Night**_

This entire get up was amusing. To be _deliberately _caught by the five-oh? _Hilarious_. Watching Sam get a mugshot was just priceless. I mean, he was already moody, but seeing the look on his face now was just magical.

"Front." The camera clicked before him, "To the right." Sam turned, his sign keeping its place. They showed him off to the side where I stood in front of the camera grinning.

"I call this one the Blue Steel." I pursed my lips, arched my brow as the camera clicked.

"Yeah, that's right." The guy behind the camera said, "To the right," he added as I faced the right, "Alright, back to the lineup."

I paused looking at the guy, "Wait, who looks better, me or Nick Nolte?"

"Shut up." I rolled my eyes as I was led to the interrogation room. I sat down, waiting for the poor sucker to come in. The door opened as two men entered, causing me to look up at them with a smug grin.

"Well, it's about time." I greeted, "I'll have a cheeseburger. Extra onions." The dark-skinned man looked over to the other cop, who smirked. Funny guys.

"You think you're funny." He stated.

I shrugged, leaning into the table with pursed lips, "I think I'm adorable." I grinned.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Dean. I'm Special Agent Victor Henriksen. This is my partner, Special Agent Reidy."

Shit.

My heart froze momentarily. I didn't think this guy would be a part of the plan. My smile remained, though, this was beginning to worry me. He knew about Abigail and Megan, "Henriksen? Not the Milwaukee agent Henriksen?"

"Live and in person." He replied smoothly. I let out a short laugh as Henriksen pulled out a picture of me looking over my shoulder, "Oh, nice shot." He tossed the picture onto the table, "You can hang that up in your cell at Super Max."

"All right, maybe we can just forget the cheeseburger, huh?" I jested.

"Oh, yeah. Keep that game face on." Henriksen pointed a folder to me, "Try and cover how up cornered you are." I held my gaze on him, clenching my jaw as Henriksen glanced to his partner, "Read him the charges."

Reidy approached me, hands on his hips, "Well, we got mail fraud, credit card fraud, grave desecration..." He began to read off until Henriksen cut him off, folding his arms.

"Skip to the good ones." Henriksen interrupted.

"Armed robbery, kidnapping and, oh, three counts of first-degree murder." Reidy finished with a raised brow.

"And after Milwaukee, your brother and your girlfriend are now a suspect in a murder case himself." Henriksen added, "I'd say for you three, "screwed to hell" is a major understatement."

"Three?" I questioned, "Last time I checked, you only had two."

"Speaking of the third, where is your girlfriend, Dean?" Henriksen probed as he dug into his file, taking out another photo. It was grainy, black and white but there was no mistaking that it was Abigail holding Megan against her. Thankfully enough, much of her features were lost in the grain. He must've pulled it from the bank in Milwaukee. "What happened between you two? She cut and run with the kid?" Henriksen placed his hand on the table staring levelly at me as he spoke. I clenched my teeth, "Did she finally see what a nut job you really were and leave?" I forced myself to laugh, despite having the need to reach across the table and knock his ass out.

"Well, where there's life there's hope, huh?" I commented, raising my chin with a grin.

Henriksen scoffed, "See? That's what I kept thinking as I was searching for your asses all over hell and gone." He leaned forward on the table, lowering his voice, "Your dad taught you well. The way you cover your tracks and after Milwaukee, the way you," He whistles and moved his hand side to side, mimicking disappearing, "vanished," I laughed softly, "Near went nuts trying to find you. Ask him." He nodded to Reidy.

"He near went nuts." Reidy echoed in a deadpan.

I turned my head to Reidy. That character was a tad creepy. "And after all of that, you get tripped up on a motion detector." I then turned my attention back to Henriksen, "Pretty rookie move. Gotta say I was… surprised." That was just in the box. Especially for the Feds. They never saw the big picture, the main intent of why it even happened.

I simply smiled at the man.

The door beside me opened as I turned my head to look, as does Henriksen and Reidy, when in stepped Abigail, clad in a neatly thought out, black wig that cascaded past her shoulders, a black, form-fitting pencil skirt, and a white, gauzy, low-cut blouse, and a thin gold chain hung from her neck as it reached nicely between her breasts as she held a half-eaten banana in one hand and a small briefcase in the other.

My heart sank.

She paused, looking at the two agents with indifference, taking another bite of the banana before settling her gaze on me. I had to steel myself from having near heart failure due to Henriksen knowing about her. She had gone the extra mile as to getting colored contact lenses, turning her eyes from blue to a hazel, adding freckles and a little mole like Marilyn Monroe. She totally revamped her appearance, marring her features.

Abigail looked like a totally different person. It was like she was already three steps ahead.

"Dean Winchester?"

I gave her my best smile, "In the flesh."

"And you are?" Henriksen questioned with suspicion coating his voice.

Abigail disregarded him for a moment, took a bite of her banana, chewed, then swallowed before she turned her head at him with a soft scoff to her voice, "Caitlyn Todd, Public Defender's office." She turned her attention back to me, sat down her briefcase and extending her manicured hand, "I've been assigned you and your brother's case." The real public defender, Mara Daniels was reassigned at the last minute.

I hummed, taking note that she had covered her thick accent superbly as I took her hand in mine, "Huh."

Abigail then let her hand fall, giving Henriksen another unimpressed once over, "Are you Henriksen?"

Henriksen did the same thing, his eyes clung to her chest for a second longer than what I liked before he focused on her face, "Yeah, and we're not quite done here."

"Ah, yeah. You are," she replied tightly, "And if you don't mind, I would like to meet my clients. Privately." There was a beat, "And I would also appreciate it if you could keep your attention on my face and not my chest, Agent Henriksen. Next time, I'll report you to HR." My brows rose at the steeliness of her voice, glancing over to Henriksen who looked taken aback from her words. He was the kind of guy who liked making orders, not taking them, and to have a woman like Abigail say that…it was pure gold. Having grown up with her, she didn't take kindly to being ordered around, except for dad and _sometimes _me, but that was few and far between. I had to bypass a smile in order to keep from blowing her cover. This was one of her finer moments, and he had better luck jacking off a rabid bobcat right about now.

Henriksen and Reidy left the room without another word. Minutes later, the three of us sat in the same room, undoubtedly, being watched like ants under a magnifying glass. Sam and I sat at one side of the table as Abigail sat opposite of us, her façade firmly in place.

She folded her hands on the table, looking to the both of us, "Unfortunately your arraignment on the breaking and entering charge won't be until Tuesday."

"And they'll keep us in the county jail?" I asked.

Abigail nodded in confirmation, there was a slight break in her character, concern radiating in her eyes, "That's right."

"Green River County Detention Center?" Sam questioned.

Again, Abigail nodded, confirming his question, "Yes." Her jaw set when she slid a paper in front of us as she held her blood red lips in a thin line, "Another thing, extradition papers have already been filed from five separate states, Missouri and Wisconsin being the biggest concern – the bank robbery and the murder raps."

Sam met her gaze as he looked up from the papers, "How long can we stall extradition?

She allowed her façade to break somewhat, revealing her concern better now, "A week. Maybe less." I nodded, glancing to Sam who raised his brows at his brother. I had to agree with Abigail, this was more or less becoming a bad idea. Even more so with Henriksen in the picture.

* * *

_**Green River County Detention Center—Day**_

Sam and I were shackled and riding in the back of a bus that smelled of vomit, piss, and sweat. I looked around, visibly disgusted at the state of cleanliness this vehicle was in. I mean, really, has anyone heard of bleach or Febreeze? Aside from disgust, I allowed myself a moment of anxiety to set in. In more ways than one, we could be fucked. This entire gig needed to go right so that the get-away would be smooth, and Abigail did a fine job back at the police station.

Straight up ballsy move on her part to take on Henriksen.

We had a job to do, just as Abigail does.

The bus halted. Moments later, the rear bus doors opened as we got herded out like a bunch of cattle at a slaughterhouse as an officer over the com system would say, "All right, let's go. Watch your step. Come on, keep moving." It was monotonous and droning, especially with the buzzing. All of us walked past the front of the bus in a line and along the rec yard. Prisoners, big and small, lined up against the fence, catcalling at the newcomers; one of them pointing to Sam.

"You're mine, baby!" Sam stared at the man unimpressed, clearly fed up with everything.

I leaned in his direction, "Don't worry, Sam. I promise I won't trade you for smokes." Sam shot me a withering glare as I chuckled. We were processed a short time later, carrying blankets and a roll of toilet paper down a hallway.

One of the guards unlocked an empty cell door as the guy that was processed before me and I entered the cell, "I call top bunk!" Earning a scoff from the guy as he placed his things on the top bunk.

"Okay." I shook my head, turning to watch as Sam walked into the cell across the hallway from me. From what I saw, he nodded to his equally large roommate who stood up slowly, glaring at him. Sam's eyes widened and turned to me as the cell doors closed on us.

Some time later, we were lined up in the cell block hallway being frisked by a guard.

"My roommate doesn't say much – how's yours?" I asked Sam, who stood behind me, in a low voice.

"Just keeps staring at me... in a way that makes me ... really uneasy." He replied just as quiet.

"It sounds like you're making new friends." I jested, in an attempt to keep the air light.

"Dean. This is, without a doubt, the dumbest, craziest thing we've ever done. And that's in a long, storied career of dumb and crazy." Sam pointed out. I thought about it for a moment trying to recall anything that Abigail and I had done in the past that could've been just as crazy and dumb as this, but I failed to remember any. Sam could be onto something.

"Calm down. It's all part of the plan." I voiced, nonchalant.

"Oh really? So Henriksen showing up was part of the plan?" Sam reiterated.

"Yeah, that guy moves a little faster than I thought." I murmured, "Look, all we gotta do is find this ghost, put the sucker down... then grab ourselves a couple of teardrop tattoos." I threw a smirk Sam's way, catching the resting bitch face. Truth be told, Henriksen weighed heavily on my mind. Arrogant asshole.

I was for certain that Abigail had her part covered down to a T, ensuring that every move she made would be under heavy scrutiny with him. Sure, from the display of tearing Henriksen's proverbial balls off, I had no doubt in my mind she could handle herself. It was that nagging feeling at the back of my mind. Just one minuscule slip-up, one wrong step and it would be game over her and well, us.

"That's not funny." Sam spoke lightly, "Dean, what about this escape plan? It –"

"It's one hundred percent sure." I assured him, "I wouldn't have gone if it wasn't. I mean, come on, man, this place has all the signs of a haunting. Innocent people are dead. Four so far."

A sarcastic laugh sounded behind me as Sam looked at the scene before us, i.e. the surrounding populous of inmates, "_Yeah,_ innocent."

"You from Texas all of a sudden? Just because these people are in jail, doesn't mean they deserve to die." I shot back, "If we don't stop this thing, people are going to continue to die. We do this job wherever it takes us."

"Look, Dean, just be straight with me, all right? You're doing this for Deacon." Sam asked, referring to an old friend of dad's.

"Damn right," I answered.

"Well, you barely even know the guy." Sam looked skeptical.

"We know he was in the Corps with Dad. We know he saved Dad's life. We know we owe him." I finalized. Since we had even been in this situation, Sam and I had argued multiple times, to which, Sam lost the vote thanks to Abigail and I and _maybe_ the incoherent babble of an eight-month-old. According to Sam, Megan didn't have room to vote so it didn't count. His loss.

"But don't you think he's asking a little much?" Sam asked.

"It doesn't matter. We may not be saints, but we're loyal and we pay our debts." I replied, "Now, that means something to me, and it ought to you." Sam rolled his eyes, "I'm not thrilled about this either, man, but Deacon asked us to hunt this thing down, and that's exactly what we're going to do."

I looked up ahead to see food, more than ready to eat considering the events of the last day or so. Wonder if it was any good.

Finding an empty table, Sam and I sat down. Sam stared at the spaghetti that was on his fork with disdain, sniffing it as if it was about to come to life. I took a bite of the chicken that I had on my plate.

"You know, this chicken isn't half bad." I said thoughtfully, "Abigail's is better, though."

"_Great._" Sam sat his form down, sliding his plate towards me, "Finish mine." I shrugged at him, "All right, so let's go back over this, Dean." I stabbed the chicken on Sam's plate, moving it to my own, "Spirit suspect number one is Mark Moody, right?"

"Yeah, psycho killer extraordinaire – Satanism, ritual murderer, died in jail," I recalled.

"You sure it's him?" Sam questioned.

"Pretty sure," I replied, taking a bite of the chicken.

Sam leaned forward, unimpressed, "Dean, considering our circumstances, I'm gonna need a little bit better than _pretty sure._"

"Really pretty sure." I rolled my eyes, "Moody died of a heart attack, which is what all the victims in here are dying off." I implied, "He died in the old cell block, which they closed after he croaked, thirty years ago. They just opened that backup. That's when the killings started."

"So you think his spirit was released somehow?" Sam questioned.

I nodded, "Mm-hmm."

Sam appeared pensive, "But what if he was already cremated?"

"I'm guessing there's something in the old block that's keeping him around. And whatever it is, we got to find it. And, uh, you know the rest." I put down the fork, "I'm done." I clapped my hands together, rising up from my chair and walked away from the table, Sam following behind and wound up bumping heavily into a large, tattooed prisoner.

"Sorry. I –" Sam was cut off.

"Watch where you're going." The tattooed guy grumbled out.

"Yeah. Sure. I just –" Sam tried to get out.

I walked in between them, getting up in the guy's face, "He said he was sorry."

"Dean..." Sam tried to stop me, but it was too late.

"You talking to me?" He glowered as I stared nonchalantly at him, "Are you talking to me?"

"Great, another guy who's seen "Taxi Driver" too many times." I muttered, "Yeah, I'm talking to you. Trust me. Let it go." The guy walked away as I turned to Sam with a smirk.

"Dean, come on."

"See, that's how you got to talk to these guys." I winked, "Instant respect." The tattooed guy was talking to an equally large prisoner who happened to be sitting at a table nearby, and the large prisoner got up.

Sam raised his brows, "You were saying?" The two men made their way to us as the other prisoners looked on, interested in what was going to happen.

"Oh, great," I muttered. The tattooed prisoner threw a punch at me. I caught him and held him from behind, "We can end this right now – no harm, no foul." The guy then broke my hold, in turn, I grabbed him again and slammed his head against the wall. Then he stepped on my foot. I stepped back and kicked the guy in the groin before sending him flying backward to the ground with another kick.

"That's enough!" The Warden ordered as he and a guard walked up, "On your feet, Lucas."

The guy that was on the ground, Lucas, nodded, getting up, "Yes, sir, boss."

The Warden took out his baton and held it under my chin, "What's your name?"

"Winchester," I replied simply.

"Well, Winchester ... not a good start." There was a long pause as he thought what he was going to do, "Solitary." He finalized, "You too, Lucas."

The guard that had come with the Warden grabbed Lucas as I felt a couple pairs of hands grab me, "Yes, sir." Lucas replied.

I looked over my shoulder to Sam as the guard shoved me forward, "Are we having fun yet, huh?" Before I was shoved into the hallway, I caught the larger prisoner that was with Lucas point to Sam, then made a slicing motion across his neck.

Well, shit.

* * *

_**Solitary Confinement**_

In the cell, I sat on the floor, leaned up against the wall.

"I wish I had a baseball," I said out loud.

Lucas, who was placed in the cell across the hall from me, spoke, "What? What'd you say?"

I rolled my eyes at him, "I said, I wish I had a baseball." I moved so I could look through my own window slit, "You know, like ... Steve McQueen."

"Yeah? Well, I wish I had a bat - so I could bash your fuckin' head in." Lucas spat out.

I arched a brow at him, "Okay." I moved back to leaning against the wall, "Well, so much for the bonding in solitary moment." The lights in the cell block began to flicker as my breath became visible, "Oh, crap." I looked through the cell room slit, seeing a clock in the hallway which read eight-thirty. The second hand was just past the four, unmoving. The lights around me were flickering with a static-y sound.

"Lucas, listen to me. Stay very still." I instructed, growing even more wary of the situation.

Lucas peered through his window-slit at me, only to gasp and backed up as if something scared him. I couldn't see a damn thing after Lucas screamed, only to quieten down moments later.

This wasn't good.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Little Rock Police Station—Day**_

Last night was rough. I think I grabbed a total of two hours' worth of sleep. I stayed up nearly all night just trying to smooth out more details for Dean and Sam, as well as trying to stall the extradition papers for the Missouri and Wisconsin incidents. I was already on my sixth large cup of coffee, sipping it as I entered the police station. Greeting a couple of officers, I made my way to the room where Henriksen and Reidy were at.

I knocked on the door, entering a second later seeing Henriksen at his desk, reading a file while Reidy was looking at paperwork in the back.

"Henriksen." I greeted in the same tone I came with the night before.

Henriksen looked up, "Hey, Todd."

"Can I have a word?" I asked, taking a few steps into the room.

He gestured to a chair, "Have a seat." I had his full attention, "What's on your mind?"

I lowered myself into the seat, folding my hands in my lap, "I've been going through the Winchester charges. And I gotta say, there are some weird inconsistencies."

Henriksen raised a brow, "Welcome to my world."

"I talked to a cop in Baltimore who swears up and down these boys saved her life and helped her catch a killer." I recounted from memory the time Sam and I had with Ballard finding out about her corrupted partner, "And there's a witness to your bank robbery in Milwaukee. She swears Sam and Dean saved her life." Aside from a rock solid façade, I couldn't help but feel chafed for watching Sam and Dean for getting a bad reputation for trying to help people out from the real dangers. Not saying that people weren't dangerous.

"Saved her from what?" Henriksen questioned, folding his hands on his desk.

This is where I wanted to break my façade and tell him in great detail about what happened in both Wisconsin and Missouri, but how exactly to you tell a normal person about the creepy crawlies and the things that go bump in the dark are real without seeming like a total deranged idiot? Most stories and recollections fell flat due to these 'fairy tales'.

I tilted my head minutely, "She was a little unclear on that." I admitted.

"That's because she's nuts." Henriksen told me, "Look, I was in Milwaukee. I spoke to her, I spoke to all the witnesses except for one."

"Oh? Who was it?" I was perplexed about what Henriksen had to say, knowing that _one _person was me.

He stared at me, attention unwavering as he spoke, "Dean Winchester's missing girlfriend, Abigail Colt, and their child." A cold chill ran down my back as he spoke. Shit, "She's another one that I'm going to go nuts on finding."

"Missing?" I feigned curiosity as he nodded.

"Vanished like thin air. No traces of her or her child. Whoever she is, she thinks she's slick." _Oh, I know I'm slick, Agent._ "I'm onto her, though. She's like the rest of them."

"Oh?" I pressed.

"All I know is, wherever these guys go, people die. It's that simple." He replied simply. I wanted to reach across the desk and slap the hell plum up out of him, however, I remained in my seat, trying to control myself.

"I don't know that it is. They just don't seem cut-and-dry guilty to me. I think there's more to this." I told him, lifting my chin up in a dissident manner. I tried to hint that he needed to dig deeper, see outside of the box rather than within the confines. There was so much more to it than just a cut and dry hold up at a bank and murder.

"Like what?" He reiterated.

I pursed my lips in a condescending manner, "I'm just pointing out the inconsistencies here, _Agent_." I leaned back in the chair, crossing my legs, "There seems to be more than meets the eye with these two—wherever they end up, there's some kind of underlying danger that they protect these people from. Every witness account you come across you'll hear exactly the same story; they saved them, not harm them." Henriksen smirked sardonically at my words, "I'm not asking you to give them a free pass, but I'm asking you to look deeper than what you're doing."

"Look _deeper_?" He questioned, "How deep do I have to look? Straight to Antarctica?" He snorted, "Maybe you've been digging a little too deep and lost the road you're on counselor." Henriksen straightened up from behind his desk, "If you don't mind, the grownups are trying to get some work done here, so... if you don't mind..."

I stared at him with the intensity to send him straight to Hell before I clenched my jaw, smiling. Being a patronizing asshole was going to get his ass handed to him one day. I rose to my feet smoothly, straightening out my skirt as I did so.

"I would recommend doing some more searching before you decide you want to place innocent men in prison for accusations they didn't commit, Agent," I spoke levelly, making my leave before he could speak. I left the station, more or less freaked out than what I was when I walked in the interrogation room the previous night. Making it out to my rental, I sat in the driver's seat for a good, long while pressing my hands against my temples.

Being freaked out didn't exactly cover how I was feeling. I basically wanted to curl up into a ball and stay there, but I physically couldn't. Sam and Dean needed me more than I needed them, even if I meant having to face Henriksen on more than one occasion. I needed away in there to them. Getting into county shouldn't be as hard as it would if it was maximum.

* * *

_**Sam's Point of View**_

_**Green River County Detention Center—Day**_

"How you doing?" I spoke as another, older inmate and I mopped the floors of a bathroom looked up from the ground.

"I'm 54 years old, mopping the floor of a crapper with bars on the windows. How you think I'm doing?" He replied in a gruff tone.

I thought for a moment, raising my brows, "All right. Bad icebreaker." I admitted, "I'm Sam."

"Randall." He replied.

"Nice to meet y– Randall." I paused, "Hey, weren't you there the night that guard died?"

Randall regarded me for a moment, nodding slowly, "Yeah."

"Well, what happened?" I tried.

"They say the stress of the job got him." He said.

"Yeah? What do you say?" Trying to coax him to speak more about the incident.

Randall stopped mopping, leaning against the handle of the mop, "Why are you inside, kid?" He asked, returning back to mopping.

"'Cause I got an idiot for a brother," I replied flatly.

The other inmate tilted his head, chuckling, "That'll do it."

"Yeah," I muttered as we continued to mop.

"Well, this place ain't so bad." He replied, "Compared to the old cellblock, this is the damn Hilton."

"You spent time in the old block?" I queried, interested.

"Oh, yeah, I was a regular customer." He smirked.

"Didn't they have Mark Moody over there for a while?"

Randall nodded in confirmation, "He was there. Yeah, I was there, too, the night that lunatic bought it."

I raised my brows, "Yeah? It was a heart attack, right?"

"Sure, his heart stopped right after the guard stopped using his head for batting practice." He replied, "The next morning, I was in his cell, mopping up the blood. What a mess."

Finally getting somewhere, "Wait. So he – he was beaten and – and nobody reported it?"

"You kept your mouth shut unless you wanted to die from the same heart attack, you know?" Randall held his chin up.

"Randall, exactly how much blood was there?" I questioned.

"More than what you'd like to see. Had so many problems getting it all mopped up." Randall shook his head, "God Damn awful if you ask me."

Randall and I finished up mopping the bathroom before we were allowed to go to the rec yard where I found Dean playing cards with an inmate at the table. Judging from the expressions of the inmate and Dean laughing, he had hustled them.

"Ha ha ha, sorry." Dean lifting his hands, "Hey, it's a cruel game, my friend." The inmate slung his cards down, walking off, "Sorry, guys." I lowered myself across from Dean as he gathered the cigarettes he'd won. "It's like picking low hanging fruit."

I furrowed my brows at him, "You don't even smoke."

"Are you kidding me? This is the currency of the realm." He explained, tucking them away.

I narrowed my eyes at him. Idiot, "Look. I got a good lead on Moody."

He glances up at me, "Me too. His spirit paid a little visit last night."

I felt my heart skip a beat, "What?"

"The clock stopped, the flickering lights, cold spot... I mean, he did everything but yell boo." Dean explained.

"Well, what happened?" I pressed.

"He walked right by me." He said, "Lucas wasn't so lucky. I mean, the way he was screaming... The guy was a jerk, but he didn't deserve to go like that." My brother paused, thinking for a moment before looking at me. The fact that the tables could've completely done a one-eighty, in turn being Dean that lost his life weighed heavily on us. That would've gone over smoothly trying to tell that to Abigail.

"What'd you find out on Moody?" Dean asked, getting back to the task.

"Yeah, so, I think I know where we might find his remains. Blood in his old cell." I explained, seeing his brows furrow in confusion.

"Blood?" He questioned, "I thought it was a heart attack."

"It _was_, after the guards worked him over." I answered, "I mean, apparently there was so much blood in there, they had trouble mopping it out."

"How we gonna get in?"

"I got a plan," I told him.

Dean smiled, "That's the Sammy I know. Come on, man, you're like Clint Eastwood from _Escape From Alcatraz_."

"The problem is, if even if we do find something, how are we gonna burn it?" I questioned, "We don't have any accelerant."

"It's a good thing I'm like James Garner from _The Great Escape_." He stood up holding two handfuls of cigarettes, glancing to a group of inmates, "Hey, fellas! Who's ready to deal?"

* * *

_**Dean's Point of View**_

_**Dining Area—Day**_

"You sure about this?" I questioned, mulling over Sam's plan as he said.

"Pretty sure," Sam responded, throwing my words back in my face with a smug expression.

"Yeah, well, considering our circumstances, I'd like a little better than _pretty sure_," I answered, repeating the words he said the previous day.

"Okay, really pretty sure." Sam countered as we came up next in line for whatever they were serving today.

"I'd like mine al dente." I joked, smiling to the server behind the divider. The server looked at me void of expression as he dumped spaghetti noodles and runny sauce on my tray. I grimaced at the food. What I would do for some actual food. Most preferably, anything made from Abigail. I offered the guy a faux smile, "Perfect." I turned and walked to a table where the rather large inmate Lucas was buddying up with was sitting.

"Save room for dessert, Tiny." I chuckled, sitting down across from him, "Hey, I wanted to ask you, 'cause I couldn't help but notice that you are two tons of fun. Just curious – is it like a thyroid problem, or is it some deep-seated self-esteem issue?" Sam stood off to the side, watching warily. I took another breath. This was a bad plan, "'Cause, you know, they're, uh they're just doughnuts. They're not love."

Tiny smiled at me from across the table, shoving his tray in my direction, then punched me in the face, sending me to the ground. That guy can hit hard. I got up and hit him three times, which have zero impact on him. The guy was like the Incredible Hulk for crying out loud!

Tiny grabbed the front of my jumpsuit to make another move only for me to headbutt him. I stepped back with a hand to my head, practically seeing stars. A guard had Tiny pacified with a baton around his neck until he picked up the guard and threw him down on the table.

"Guys, give me a hand." I heard the Warden call out as two other guards ran over just as Tiny threw another punch, grabbing me from behind. I struggled, watching for a split second as Sam slipped into the kitchen undetected in his attempt to get to the other section of the prison. I blinked several times, feeling consciousness begin to slip away from Tiny's grip around my throat until a guard succeeded in pulling Tiny away from me. I fell to the floor shortly before another guard helped me up, the Warden grabbing me by the face.

"If we'd waited any longer, you'd be dead." He said in a smug tone.

"You waited long enough." I retorted with a fixed look. The Warden shoved his baton into my stomach, doubling me over. I couldn't breathe for a moment and coughed as he grabbed the back of my head, bringing me up to look at him.

"Do yourself a favor. Don't. Talk." He motioned to the guards, "Take them both up to the infirmary."

In the infirmary, I found myself in the adjacent cell from Tiny with wire fence walls and a curtain between us. I could see his silhouetted figure on the curtain from the light in his cell. It stood out from the rest of the infirmary. It looked like much of the places we go on a regular salt and burn; dark, unattended, and decrepit, to an extent. The paint was peeling off some of the walls and fixtures from old age.

I held my head in my hands since I was sporting a wonderful headache from that headbutt, not to mention the scrape on my face was burning and my stomach felt like an elephant just sat on it. If I didn't know any better, it was like I was feeling sorry for myself. It's definitely been a while since I had a knockdown drag-out like that. Jesus.

"Hey, Tiny," I called out to the Incredible Hulk in the adjacent cell from me.

"Yeah?" Tiny asked.

"Hey, sorry about the things I was saying earlier. I can't really tell you why, but I had to get you angry. So, uh... Anyway, sorry." I admitted.

"It's okay." Came his reply, "Truth is, I have low self-esteem issues. My old man treated me and my brother like crap, right up till the day he died."

"How'd he die?" I asked, interested in that tidbit of this man's life.

"My brother shot him," Tiny answered bluntly.

I tilted my head, "Okay." I looked up seeing a ghastly woman standing on the other side of a fenced-off area. I glanced at the clock on the wall, it read eight, forty-five; the second hand at the twelve, "Oh, crap."

"What is it?" Tiny asked.

I got off my bed, looking around for something to use against the ghost before rattling the door of my cell. The ghost walked through the fence she was standing behind.

"What's going on?" Tiny asked again, concerned.

I didn't answer him once again, finding a salt shaker from the tray that sat on the end of my bed. It was something at least. As the ghost came closer to me, my feet left the floor as I was flung back against the wall, falling to the ground with a groan.

Tiny struggled to see what was happening, however, couldn't due to the curtain, "What is it?"

The ghost stood over me, placing her hand on my chest as pain bombarded my entire torso. I let out a pained groan, flinging the salt at her. She disappeared instantly giving me the chance to lie back, clutching my chest.

Tiny called out from his cell in terror, "Oh! No! Noooo!"

I watched as he panicked, backing away from another figure via silhouetted by the curtain, "Tiny!" I got to my feet as Tiny slid down the fenced wall of his cell, "Tiny!" I slammed the door to my cell, kicking it; trying in some form to get someone to help Tiny, "Guard!" I shouted out, "Guard!"

* * *

_**Rec Yard—Day**_

"Wait," Sam spoke, bewildered, "So you're telling me it wasn't Moody?"

"Not unless he liked going around dressed like a nurse." I muttered, "Poor Tiny, man." I shook my head, "Poor giant Tiny."

"Wait, so this is – this is, like the ghost of some nurse who worked here or something?" My brother asked.

I shrugged heavily, "I don't know, man. I guess."

"You know what, Dean, at this point, _I don't know_ isn't working for me." Sam pointed out, "See, uh, I thought we were done. I called Deacon. It's happening. We're getting out tonight."

"I guess we got to do some quick research, then," I answered.

"How? I mean, maybe you haven't noticed ... we're in jail." Sam said, irritated.

"Well, how'd you found out what happened to Moody then?" I queried, seeing a light go off as my brother started to scan the yard in search of someone. It wasn't long until he fixated on an older inmate, heading in his direction as I followed. Poor kid must've forgotten that getting information wasn't just from the internet.

Moments later, Sam was talking to the guy, Randall.

"So you want to know about some nurse?" He asked, giving us both a once-over.

Sam nodded in confirmation.

Randall gave us both a suspicious look, "Why you want to know?"

"Well, we got our reasons." I replied, already fed up with everything, "But, uh ... we'll make it worth your while." I showed Randall a pack of cigarettes, which Randall took, "So, this nurse, she would have had white hair, one screwed up eye – is that ringing a bell?"

Randall rubbed his chin, thinking, "Yeah. Yeah, I remember her."

"You remember her name?" I asked.

Randall pursed his lips as he shook his head minutely, "No, that's still kind of fuzzy." He lied. Sam let out an amused sound as I turned to look at him.

"Give it to him." He told me.

"I earned these." I hissed.

Sam stared me down, bitch face in place as he splayed his hands, "Dean." I rolled my eyes, handing over another pack of cigarettes to Randall.

"Glockner. Nurse Glockner." He said finally, "Nasty old bitch worked here in the seventies."

"You knew her?" Sam questioned.

"I met her once." He recalled, "Had to get a tetanus shot. She damn near jabbed the needle into the other side of my arm. At least I got out of there alive."

Sam's brows knitted together at his words, "What do you mean?"

"I've heard these stories. I don't know if they were true. Cons love to talk, but we're all liars." Randall answered, looking between us.

"What kind of stories?" I pressed.

"Guys would go up to the infirmary with a cold. Next thing you know, they're in a body bag." He explained, "A whole rash of heart attacks – young guys, old guys."

My brows rose, "Heart attacks?" Sam asked as the old man nodded.

"Yeah. Story was, Glockner had it out for cons and she did this, uh, Charles Bronson thing with a hypodermic." Randall implied, "Anyway, that was the rumor. Nobody ever proved anything."

"Whatever happened to Glockner?" I asked.

"I don't know." Randall admitted with a small shrug, "I finished my bit and left. Next time I landed back in here, she was gone."

* * *

_**Dining Area—Day**_

In the dining area, Sam and I sat at a small table off from the rest of the populous.

"Okay, so let's say those stories on Glockner were true." Sam began.

"It's a thought." I replied, "You know, in life, she's a vigilante. In death, same thing."

"Right. But then how's she tied in with the old cellblock? And if she's going after cons, why kill that one guard?" Sam asked.

"I did hear in the yard that that guard wasn't exactly squeaky clean, so, maybe she's going after anybody that breaks a law." I suggested, tilting my head with a smile, "Like me."

"You 'heard in the yard'?" Sam deadpanned.

I nodded my head, "Yeah."

"Dean does it ... bother you at all, how easily you seem to fit in here?" My brother asked me.

I shook my head innocently, "No, not really."

"All right." He said shaking his head, "Well, listen, either way, we need more info on Glockner. _If_ she's buried. If so, where? And, we got five hours to get it." I gave Sam a look that made him shake his head, "No, no. Don't give me that look. Don't give me that "we got to see this thing through" look. We are leaving tonight, no matter what."

"I just don't want to let Deacon down, that's all. We do owe him." I pointed out.

"Yeah, but we don't owe him our lives, Dean." Sam started in, "Have you forgotten about the fact that you have Abigail busting her ass on the other side? Megan too?"

Abigail.

I stood up, earning an incredulous look from Sam, "Where you going?"

I grinned, "I'm gonna have a talk with our lawyer."

Sam shook his head, sighing.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

I entered the front of the building carrying my briefcase wearing a navy knit dress and a pair of navy heels that matched. My left hand fiddled with the thin chain that hung around my neck, letting it fall between my breasts as I was escorted to an interrogation room by a few guards, who opened the door for me. Entering, I smiled to them, nodding in thanks as they offered minute smiles, leaving when the Warden entered first.

I smiled at him, "Thanks, Deacon."

"No problem, Abigail. You've got thirty minutes," he responded, "The guards that escorted you in will be on lunch, as well as the ones that will be bringing in Dean. I've already taken care of the surveillance camera in this room. There'll be no one around in that timeframe—shift change."

I nodded in understanding, "Ten-four."

"Thanks again for doing this, the three of you. He'll be in here shortly," I smiled, as he patted my shoulder, leaving me in the room to myself. I blew out a loud breath, ready to run my hands through my hair, despite it being tightly compacted against my head. I leaned against the table, fanning myself with an empty file to keep my makeup from running or smearing. This entire get up made me hotter than a fresh-fucked fox in a forest fire; say that ten times fast.

The door behind me opened, making me get to my feet and turned as Dean entered the room, rubbing his wrists gingerly muttering something under his breath until he saw me. He glanced back when the door shut before he crossed the room in a matter of seconds, capturing my face in his hands as he pulled me into a heated kiss. I ran my fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots as he elicited a groan, pulling away, breathing heavily.

I frowned, seeing a long graze along the side of his face, "Dean…" I gently ran fingertips along the length of it causing him to wince, jerking my hand away. His hand caught mine, bringing it to his lips, kissing it tenderly.

"I'm alright," he assured still holding my hand in his, "How are you?"

"I'm alright," I echoed him, my lips tipping up in a small, tired smile as he chuckled, pulling me into him. I fought back an onslaught of tears, wrapping my arms around his waist and clutched his jumpsuit tightly, "I miss you, Dean."

"I do too," His hands ran along the length of my back before I stepped back a hair.

"So, what do you need?" I asked, remembering the mental clock. Thirty minutes.

Dean shifted against me, smirking like a bird-fed cat, "Babe, that is a question we don't have the time for." His eyes scanned my face, taking in everything I've done, "The contacts are a nice touch."

"You think so?" I asked, "They're a pain in the ass, really." I paused, rethinking what I said, "Actually, everythin' about this is a pain in the ass."

"Agreed," Dean chuckled placing a gentle kiss on my lips, "You did great with Henriksen the other day, Abs." I hummed, tilting my head to the side as Dean pressed his mouth against my neck, sending a jolt through my body. A harsh breath passed my lips as he trailed down my neck, his hands resting on the rise of my ass when he lifted me up onto the table, hooking my legs around his waist.

"We've got thirty minutes," I spoke lightly.

"Mhmm," He hummed against my throat, "We got time."

"Dean," I curled my fingers in his hair once again, tugging at his roots and pulled his head back a hair trying to get his mind out of the gutter, "I need you to get back at the task at hand," He more or less pouted, "What is it that you needed?" I asked once again as his hips pressed against my lady bits. I shivered knowing full and well Dean's engines were at full speed.

Dean flashed me a smug grin, "You, for one."

"That, I know." I answered watching as he pushed up the bottom of my dress, "What else?"

"Oh," he paused, "We need you to look up a nurse that worked here back in the seventies. Glockner."

"Cakewalk," I replied, undoing the fastens to Dean's jumpsuit, "What else?"

"I need you to find everything you can about her," He instructed slowly as I reached the last fasten on his jumpsuit, running my hands down his stomach. His body tensed, closing his eyes and swallowed hard, allowing his head to fall back when I ran a hand down below his waistline, "Most importantly, how she died and where's buried," A sharp groan passed from his lips before his tongue darted out to moisten them, peering down at me with a grin.

"Easy," I replied, a cocky smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

"Good, after you find this out, salt and burn the bones or we may have a longer stay," He continued as I tilted my head to the side with an expression that basically said, you realize who you're talking to, right?

"Accordin' to Sam, y'all are leavin' tonight." I frowned as Dean blew out another breath, shuddering against me, "You do realize if you two get stuck in here, the hell storm that is Henriksen will rain down on you both."

Dean's hands moved to between my legs, his brows raising as he took a moment to appreciate the lacy thong I had on, tilting his head to the side minutely in acknowledgment, "I have a vague notion."

* * *

_**Twenty-five Minutes Later**_

I straightened my skirt, smoothing out any wrinkles I had missed while Dean fastened his jumpsuit back up, the both of us standing side by side, facing the reflective window to the interrogation room. I fixed my wig and lipstick as best as I could, wiping what was smeared along my mouth—off. Upon inspection, I turned back to the briefcase, opening it. Dean approached from behind, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Take a look at this paper," I instructed to him, "This is the location of where I have the Impala stashed for you two. Wait for me."

Dean furrowed his brows, "You're not going to be there?"

"No, not right off," I answered, "When you and Sam make a break for it, I'm gonna have to stay behind for an ex-amount of time in order to cover my ass."

Dean's jaw ticked, realizing that I would have to speak to a very pissed off Henriksen, "_No. _No, I want you there at the Impala when we get there. We'll need to leave as soon as possible."

"I realize this, Dean, but I'm gonna have to do somethin' so that it doesn't look like I'm me," I argued.

Dean's mouth pressed into an odd form, continuing to shake his head, "The longer you're around Henriksen, the easier it'll be for him to trip you up and catch you red handed."

"You don't think I know this, Dean?" I asked. His chest rose and fell heavily, sensing his uneasiness, "Trust me on this," I took his face in my hands focusing his attention to me, "Please."

"I don't like this, Abigail."

"I don't like you and Sam bein' in jail." I quipped.

Dean made a face, "Fair enough."

"Just, wait for me, okay? I'll be there faster than you can say Poughkeepsie." I ran my thumb against his lips, seeing his troubled look. I looked at my watch. Time was up, "I love you, Dean."

"I love you, Abs."

"Tell Sam, I hope he hasn't been conformed into 'Prison Bitch' status yet."

Dean smirked, "Will do." I bit my lip, then took a step back to retrieve my briefcase from the table. The doors opened on both ends as two guards came in with handcuffs for Dean, and a lone guard waiting for me.

"It was nice meeting you again, Mr. Winchester." I finalized my stay with him, "I hope you and your brother put into consideration with what we spoke about."

Dean nodded, "Loud and clear, doll face. You scratch my back, I might even scratch yours." She nodded her head in a silent promise, taking her leave. As the guards placed me back in cuffs, I let out a heavy sigh, "Poughkeepsie."

* * *

_**Rec Yard-Day**_

Exiting the building to the rec yard, I spotted Sam from across the yard as he held up his hand to catch my attention. I approached him with my mood better than what it was before I saw Abigail, but somehow, worse.

Sam stared at me expectantly, "How is she?"

"She's great," I replied in a lighter tone, "Straight up trooper. She's gonna look into Glockner and finish it. Said hope you haven't reached Prison Bitch status yet."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Ha, very funny." He paused, "Dean, you know we can't wait to hear from her when she finishes the job."

"You sure we can't do another day?" I pressed, seeing him shake his head. That mop of hair looking like a dog trying to dry off.

"No, no, no. We're leaving tonight, and that's it. Knowing Abigail, though, she'll do it right and we don't have to worry about it." He assured.

I rubbed my face, "So we're just gonna let these people die?"

"Don't give me that, all right? This was your stupid plan. I went along with it, but we're sticking to the plan, Dean." Sam's voice began to raise a little.

I raised my hands, "Okay. Uh, you leave. I'm gonna stay." I turned to leave, heading back to the inside of the building.

"Hey, don't turn away." Sam's voice rose more, "Don't turn away from me!"

"Screw you," I yelled back at him.

"What?! Screw you!" Sam snarled as he grabbed my shoulder, spinning me around. I shoved him back as a guard grabbed Sam and the Warden grabbed me.

"All right, hard case. I see the usual methods ain't gonna work with you." The Warden snarled, turning to Sam, "You too, sweetheart." The guard took hold of my arms from behind as the Warden grabbed the back of Sam's jacket, both of them escorting us back inside until we were in a large room; the Warden following behind closely.

He glanced to the guard motioning his chin to the door, "Take off." He ordered, "I want to handle this alone." The guard nodded and left.

Sam looked at him, wary as the Warden stepped towards me.

He stops short, smiled and placed a hand on the side of my neck, "Deacon, you are beating the holy hell out of me, man." Deacon turned me around so he could take off my handcuffs.

"Sorry, Dean. I thought I was going easy on you. Just, uh, trying to make it look real," He defended as I laughed, "You enjoy your thirty minutes?"

"Yeah. Well, mission accomplished." I answered, "To answer your other question, yes, but she isn't fond with what you did to the face." I rubbed my wrists with a smug grin, catching Sam's inquisitive glance then shook his head upon realizing what Deacon meant.

Deacon turned to take off Sam's handcuffs with a chuckle, "Well, it's not every day an inmate gets to have one-on-one consultations with their public defender, you know." He smirked, "Especially without cuffs, security cameras, or a guard on duty." Sam's eyes widened slightly as I chuckled.

"She sends her thanks, by the way." I added as Sam rubbed his wrists gingerly, "Guess we can mark that off our bucket list, huh." Deacon began to laugh, patting me on the shoulder.

"Can't say I don't blame you," he replied, "She's a keeper. From what I hear, she's giving Henriksen the run for his money—and she's not even a lawyer." Sam and I smiled at that. Deacon looked to the both of us, "So, is it over?"

Sam's mouth pressed into a thin line, "No. Turns out, it wasn't Moody." Sam admitted.

"What?" Deacon questioned.

Sam nodded, "Yeah."

"Then who?" He asked.

"Uh, we think it's some nurse who used to work here, but we're still shy on all the intel we need," Sam explained.

"Which is why we should stick around until we find it," I added.

"Oh, hey guys, Abigail left this for me to give to you two." Deacon took an envelope out of his jacket pocket. Sam didn't hear him. He was too busy fuming.

"You want to have this fight for real, Dean? We gotta go." Sam bit out.

"I'm just saying–"

"We gotta go now!" Sam cut me off, shoving me in the shoulder. To be really honestly, it was beginning to piss me off.

"Guys." Deacon tried again.

He went unheard due to Sam's relentless bitching, "We're leaving, Dean. Otherwise, we'll be leaving in shackles for Milwaukee, with Henriksen as company."

"Oh, come on," I said, forgetting that I had promised Abigail earlier I would leave.

"Guys!" Deacon tried again, a little louder.

We turned to him, "What?!" We said in unison.

"Abigail left this for you two." He said holding an envelope, "She said, and I quote, "Tell those dingbats, especially Dean, that they better take the envelope or they'll have a size ten boot up their asses." End quote." Sam gave me a withering glare as I took the envelope from him.

I chuckled, "Would you look at that. Man, Abigail is quick."

"You want to, maybe, open it up after, you know, you're done patting yourself on the back?" Sam iterated not paying any mind to Deacon, who was watching us both, smiling.

I waved my hand dismissively to him, "Yeah, yeah, yeah." I opened the envelope, taking out a paper and began reading, "Wow."

"What?" Sam spoke impatiently, "You want to share with the class, Dean?"

"Glockner died in the old cellblock after Moody bit it. Seems they had a little inmate uprising." I summed up, "She got caught in the middle." I paused, clenching my teeth, "They dragged her to a solitary cell and gave her a severe cerebral edema."

Sam blinked, "Someone bashed her head in."

I nodded solemnly, "Yeah. Also sounds like someone we know."

Sam threw me another glare, ignoring my comment about Abigail, "Does it say where she's buried?"

"Yep and Abigail said she would meet us there after she got done with Henriksen."

"All right, then, let's get you the hell out of here." Deacon said with a smile.

"Don't worry, Deacon. We'll get rid of this thing." I promised as he removed a vent cover on a wall.

"Good, 'cause I want it out of my prison." He replied, walking over to us, "Boys, uh... I can't thank you enough for this. Abigail too. I know it was asking a lot but you still came through. Your daddy and Steven ... they raised the three of you right."

"Well, we owed you." Sam pointed out, making me look at him.

"Yeah." Deacon agreed, pulling Sam into a hug, then did the same to me, "Hope to see you guy again, huh? Just ... not in here, okay?"

"Yeah, we'll do our best." Sam said as I said, "Right."

"Congratulations on the baby girl, Dean. She's beautiful." Deacon spoke once more.

"Thanks, she's my world." I replied, then headed for the vent, and then paused, "Oh... Where do you want it?"

"What?"

I grinned.

Deacon remembered, appearing not at all pleased, "Yeah, um..." He pointed to his cheek. I reared back, only to be stopped, "Um... Make it look real, son."

I punched him. Hard. You know, as payback.

* * *

_**Abigail's Point of View**_

_**Green River County Detention Center—Night**_

I found myself sitting behind the table in an office. Deacon called me in, asked for another favor to keep the heat off of him, which I had already guaranteed ahead of time. I held a small Styrofoam cup of black coffee with three sugars in my hands, leaned back into the chair I was sitting in with crossed legs, staring Henriksen down with narrowed eyes. His partner, Reidy, was standing nearby.

"I told you a hundred times, Agent. It was a private conversation between me and my client." I repeated for the one hundredth and first time this time in the past five minutes.

"Right," Henriksen leaned in rather heavily on the table, "and just three hours later he just happened to bust out. Now, tell me, what he said." I remained silent, narrowing my eyes, taking a sip of my coffee. Henriksen rubbed his face, "Let me make this simple, counselor. You don't come clean, I will put you on the hook for aiding and abetting."

I scoffed to keep from laughing, "Oh, that – that is ridiculous."

"You don't think that I can? You think this is some kind of game, lady?" He ground out, "I am the _last_ person on planet earth you want to screw with. Now, tell me what he said."

I strained to not roll my eyes at him. Instead, I closed my eyes, hanging my head and sighed, "He wanted me to do some research. On a prison nurse that died in 1976."

His face skewed into a bewildered expression, "What? Why?"

I lifted my shoulders in a shrug, "I don't know."

"What else?" He pressed.

I held a rather sour look, "They wanted to know where she was buried."

"Did you find out where?"

I nodded, "Yeah."

"Did you tell them?" He asked, urgency in his voice.

I nodded once again with a guilty expression, "Yeah."

"Tell me," Henriksen demanded.

"Mountainside Cemetery." I replied easily, looking from Henriksen to Reidy pointedly, as they appeared to be the jolliest bunch of asshole on this side of the nuthouse, "Am I allowed to leave? I told you all I know." Henriksen waved me off, allowing me to stand up smoothly and left without looking back.

There wasn't anything more important right now as to get my ass back to Dean and Sam at the right location. I got into a stolen car, pulling away from the prison grounds and stomped on the accelerator.

* * *

_**Green Valley Cemetery-Night**_

Reaching Green Valley Cemetery, I left the car I had stolen a few yards away from the entrance of the cemetery, getting out still dressed as the boys' lawyer. I saw a dim orange light up ahead, as well as the silhouette of the Impala and leaned against the side panel. Two figures came towards me, hurrying, before stopping abruptly.

"Who is that?" I heard Sam say. Dean stood beside him, eyes squinted trying to see.

"Olly, Olly, Oxen free," I said loud enough for them to hear, "It's your favorite lawyer."

"Oh Jesus Christ, it's Abigail," Dean muttered, relieved. The both of them ran up to me, Dean dropping his shovel as he wrapped his arms around me tightly, and gave me a quick kiss, "Did it work?"

I pulled off my wig, taking my hair down with a soft moan of bliss, "Yeah. Sent them to Mountainside. He's sharp, though. He'll figure out he's been duped." Still holding the wig, I folded my arms looking at both of the boys, "You thought you were screwed before?"

Dean nodded meekly, "Yeah, I know. We got to go deep this time."

"_Deep, _Dean? We should go to Yemen." Sam stated.

"Ooh, I'm – I'm not sure I'm ready to go that deep, guys," I said, raising my hands in defense.

"Same," Dean agreed, "Come on before anyone notices anything." I tossed my wig into the backseat getting into the middle of the front seat, wedged between Sam and Dean. I wrapped my arms around their necks, drawing them in for an embrace.

"I've missed you guys," I admitted.

Sam's arm wrapped around my waist, "We've missed you too, Abby."

"I've missed your food," Dean admitted, causing me to laugh as he pulled away from the cemetery, leaving Green River County behind us.

Hours later we found ourselves driving down on a two lane backdrop. Sam was leaned against the door, sound asleep as Dean and I remained in an adrenaline induced stupor in fear that we could be under police radar. He had angled himself so that I could be tucked under his arm in a somewhat comfortable position when _Paralyzer_ by Finger 11 played on the radio, the dashboard lights giving out a familiar glow.

"Deacon must've given you a rough time," I murmured after I had lifted Dean's shirt up a little noticing some bruising on his abdomen.

He smirked running a hand through my hair, "Ah, it's nothing. Had to make it look real."

"Still not too thrilled about that bruise on your face," I added hearing a chuckle rumble in his chest.

"It's nothing, Abs, I'm alright." I frowned a little, subconsciously running my fingertips along Dean's exposed skin, "So, Nurse Ratchet died from an edema?"

I hummed, "Yeah. From what I read, it was pretty brutal." I paused for a moment, sensing the uneasiness that knotted in my stomach, "Oh my God, Dean, don't start." I groaned out, "I'm too tired and hungry for this."

"I didn't say anything," Dean countered.

"No, but you're thinkin' it," I started peering up at him. Dean tilted his head in acknowledgment, "For the millionth time, I am _fine_."

"Yeah, well, considering the bruiser died from the same thing that put you in a coma, can't help but feel sorry for the old gal," Dean muttered shifting to sit up straighter in the seat as I pulled myself up, twisting my body to look at him in the glow of the dashboard lights. His jaw remained clenched, that muscle ticked as he brought his hand up to his mouth, "No one deserves to die like that, Abs. Not even hateful, old, vindictive bats like her."

I ran my fingers through my hair, blowing out a sigh, "I get what you're sayin', Dean, I do. That's a bad way to go."

His eyes flickered to me before moving back to the road, "_But_."

"_But_, maybe that's Karma for what she did to those inmates." I implied with a small shrug.

"Okay, so, for you, your Karma was being put into a coma with the same condition that would've left you dead or in a vegetative state, just for doing your job." He pressed, earning a groan from me.

"_My _job is _a lot_ different than hers that actually _saves_ people," I reminded him with narrowed eyes, "_Her _job required to take care of people despite their wrong doin's, yet, she deliberately killed them." Dean rolled his eyes, "What happened to me was purely from a demon tryin' to get in the good graces of Yellow Eyes. Hers was pure spite."

Dean fell silent, focusing back on the road, "I agree, though," I continued in a thoughtful tone, "Maybe that woman didn't deserve to die like that. A lot of people don't deserve to die the way they do," I laid my hand on his thigh, "Even when they have a family dependin' on them."

Dean sighed, looking down to my hand for a moment before his covered mine, "Yeah, maybe you're right, Abs."

I blinked, "I wouldn't exactly say right, maybe that I have a fair point," Dean inclined his head to me, "If for whatever reason, I ever get back into a situation like a coma, I'll come back." I placed a gentle kiss on the back of his hand seeing the doubt in his eyes, "I always do."

"Yeah, well, you know how hard it is to get rid of me," Dean cracked a smug smile as I chuckled.

"Like a case of the clap," I teased.

Dean's chest rumbled in a laugh as he pulled me against him, "I love you, Abs."

I wrapped an arm around him, smiling to myself, "I love you too, Dean."

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! _Folsom Prison Blues _is out! So, I went and skipped _Hollywood Babylon, _but mentioned it very briefly in this chapter. Who knows, it may come back in future chapters (just as _Bloody Mary_ will make its return in the form of flashbacks in Season 3). I've actually stunned myself that I even got this out this fast, then again, it was a favorite episode of mine. I don't know if y'all have noticed yet, but, we have THREE more chapters left until D-Day (Deal Day)! I'm so pumped for it! That chapter will be when Abigail's story arc _truly_ begins. I hope y'all will like it as much as I do. There are so many things that will go on from Season 3 and on, hopefully until the end of the show. If there's anything you want to see or happen, let me know!**

**I'd also like to give credit, where credit is due. First and foremost, the _Supernatural_ franchise. Without this show, this story couldn't be made possible. Secondly, I want to give credit to my lovely friend, _Ladysunshine6_ who has been more than just a friend to me. She's been there for me when I wasn't. Honestly, guys, I couldn't ask for a better person.**

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**Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me or you can get a hold of me via Tumblr! I love receiving fan-mail, or all three!**

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**Song for this chapter: _Folsom Prison Blues_ by Johnny Cash**

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** Ladysunshine6-Thank you, dear! I know! That chapter was tough to write out for me. Glad to be back! (:**

**angelicedg-Thank you! I appreciate that! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I can't wait to get to the end of this season. I'm just so excited for it!**

**devoncarman-I may do flashbacks for Hollywood Babylon that would go with another episode that would (somewhat) be similar. I know _Bloody Mary _will be a for sure flashback in Season 3. (:**

**SomebodyWhoCares-Thank you for your input! I appreciate it! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! (:**

**AfireLove1998-Thank you! I appreciate it! I may come back to it at a later time (like I mentioned) in flashbacks. I'm thinking that I'll put an original chapter before I go straight into All Hell Breaks Loose since I haven't exactly done one this time. Hm.**

**Guest-Thank you for your input! I appreciate it! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! (:**

**Love. Fiction. 2017-Thank you! :D**


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